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Life Sketches and 



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Mrs. L Haines. 



LIFE SKETCHE; 



AND 



POEMSo 



BY 



MRS. L. HAINES. 



MINNE.APOLIS. MINN. 

1894. 



T6 \nio'\ 



C 



. l9>'7-\ 



\^ 



c\\i 



K 



TO 

D. L. LIBBY 

THIS WORK IS 

RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED 

BY 

THE AUTHOR. 



INTRODUCTION. 



I write this, dear reader, hoping there may be some good 
results attained, by simple means. At the age of sixty-eight 
years I was very sick, and for weeks I hovered between two 
worlds. It appeared that I was on a cloud; I had beautiful 
visions; I could see a lovely river, and across that river mound 
after mound of beautiful flowers, and as far as my eyes could 
look, foliage that nature could not compare with. 

When I came back to myself I was very much surprised. 
I always loved poetry, but could not compose it. Before I had 
strength to write it down it came rushing upon me in volumes. 
A large part passed without being noted; that I could not re- 
member. But when there was a friend near to write it down, 
that we kept. You will find dreams that came to me in 
poetry. 

I am not an author or a poet. When those attacks pass 
away I cannot rhythm one verse. I cannot say I have any 
power over it. Some of my pieces would hang over me for 
days, in a broken form. Then, perhaps in the twilight, when 
nature was at rest, they would come in form, and I would 
have to write for hours. I am at a loss to tell what this is. It 
has influenced me to write a part of my life, and give it to the 
public. It is from the pen of an old lady upwards of three 
score and ten years. 



I have taken a few poems from authors that seemed to rep- 
resent my case. Dear reader, kindly excuse all mistakes, for 
you well know that at my age my work must be far from per- 
fect, and I hope that God will influence your minds while you 
read, as He has mine while I write. 

Some of these pages are sudden flashes of inspiration, in 
moments of high excitement, but whether to the originator 
suddenly or slowly, they have back of them the power of 
experience. 

Respectfully yours, 

Mrs. L. Haines. 

Minneapolis^ Minn.^ June 2d, 1894. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 



The subject of this sketch was born in Rockland, 
Maine, in 1824, and was the oldest of ten children. 
My father was a sea captain. He sailed his ship from 
the time of my earliest remembrance. My people 
took a little orphan girl three years older than I was, 
and adopted her. She was the same as an own sister 
to me. 

I had a maiden aunt that was our house-keeper for 
many years. Now 1 can look back into the years of 
long ago, way down upon the rocky coast of Maine; 
my childhood was beautiful. 

We had a lovely home down by the Atlantic's blue 
wave; there was a pebbly strand where we would sit 
and watch the vessels away in the distance, and when 
the tide was coming in we would lay pebbles down to 
see the tide wash over them. It was a fine view. 
Rockland harbor was the finest on the coast, and it 
was always full of shipping. 

There was a high point of land that extended into 
the sea that had a light-house upon it. That point 
helped to make the harbor. It was called Owl's Head 



8 Life Sketches and Poems. 

Light. Some of my readers will no doubt remember 
that light-house as they came around the point from 
the west. Rockland was supported by its shipping 
and lime burning. 

I spoke of m\- aunt being our house-keeper. She 
was not as kind as our mother. She was not blest 
with pets, nor did she allow them to be around her. 
I remember how my adopted sister would try to get 
into her good graces. We were happy when we 
could get into the kitchen. 

My fancy revisits the old fire-place, 
With its andirons as bright as the sun, 

We all so happy a m.aking our pies — 
Dear mother looking on at the fun. 

Dear mother has gone to the home of the blest, 
The children have flown one by one, 

The old house has vanished along with the rest. 
There is nothino; now left but the one. 

But I trust we shall meet in that beautiful land, 
When the life spark goes out of the one; 

An unbroken band in that happy land, 
To look on the face of the Son. 

Whatever my aunt promised, we were sure that she 
would do, for she was strictly honest. She would tell 
us that if she did not have to mark us in our deport- 
ment for one month, that she would make us a little 
tea party, and invite our pla3mates.. But if she put 



Lii'E Sketches and Poems. 9 

one mark against us in that time, no matter how much 
we promised for the future, it would do no good. 

Our dear mother was not strong, but she was our 
governess,, regarding right and wrong. Her heart 
was full of love, and auntie's full of rules. 

I remember one fourth of July we were all dressed 
for a picnic and our hearts wxre full of glee. An 
hour before we w^ere ready to go there came a small 
shower, and the word came to us, "You cannot go, 
you will spoil your white frocks." What a disappoint- 
ment that was to us, when we saw others going who 
did not mind the dampness; we went to our rooms and 
spent the day in childish regrets. My heart always 
aches for children when I see them disappointed and 
made unhappy. 

There is a great joy in my heart when I see chil- 
dren happy, bright and free; our Saviour says "Let 
little children come unto Me." 

All day our busy, busy fegt 
Had pattered to and fro; 
And all the day our little hands 
Had been in mischief so. 

That aunty dear was truly tired. 

Still she had loving care; 
She had kept us through the day from harm, 

And safe from every snare. 

But when the eventide had come 
Our mother would go up-stairs: 



lo Life Sketches and Poems. 

We would kneel beside our little bed 
And she would hear our prayers. 

With folded hands and rev'rent mien, 

•'Our Father," first we'd say: 
Then, "Now I lay me down to sleep," 

With childish faith we'd pray. 

With cheeks upon the pillow pressed, 

We'd give a kiss, and say, 
"Good night, we love you, dear mamma. 

You have been so kind to-day." 

At ten 3-ears .of age I often went to sea with my 
father. I loved the ocean, and enjoyed it when the 
mad waves almost drowned the moon. I never was 
tired looking on its bounding tide, and I could always 
see something grand in the blue ocean, from a child. 
When the waves would dash against the ship's side I 
would think it sublime, and watch my father's face to 
see if I could detect a look of fear. Then I would 
have deep thoughts about the storm. We always ex- 
perienced heavy storms of thunder and lightning in 
the Gulf Stream. Sometimes black clouds would hang 
over us for hours. In those electrical displays one 
could see to pick up a pin on the ship's deck. 

My adopted sister did not love the ocean. She had 
great fear when she was even on a small body of wa- 
ter. I wished very much to have her for a companion 
aboard the ship, but she would never go with me. 

Time rolled on and Bessia was engaged to be mar- 



Life Sketches and Poems. ii 

ried. It was to a gentleman that father had kept for 
sixteen years to look after his business. Father said 
he was worthy of Bessia's hand. , They were to stop 
with us two years after their marriage. We knew we 
should not feel her loss so much as if she went away 
soon after her marriage. 

It was in the month of June, and the roses were in 
bloom, when William Bennet took his bride. We 
had made preparations for the wedding. In those 
days it was the style to have large weddings; one 
hundred and fifty or even two hundred was not called 
a large wedding. We had a large three-story house 
and plenty of room to entertain company. 

It was the first marriage in the house and we were 
all interested in the nuptials. It was a great novelty 
to us children. The big brick oven was kept warm 
for several days with plenty of attendants to wait up- 
on it. 

That dear old aunty was full of business. She was 
mistress from attic to cellar, and she made her power 
felt among the small ones. Turkeys, geese, and chick- 
ens had to suffer about that time, with plenty of mince 
pies, and apple and English plum puddmgs, to say 
nothing about bride's cake, or pound and fruit cakes, 
that you could hardly number. 

If that table had been set for this generation, there 
would have been several cases of la gi'ippe. mixed with 



12 Life Sketches and Poems. 

Asiatic cholera, but everything was healthy; indiges- 
tion was not thought of by those hardy people in those 
days. It was eat and be merry in the Puritan st3le. 

Well, if I am not careful I shall forget my subject, 
dear readers; you know old people are apt to forget. 

We went to the woods and got a cart-load of beau- 
tiful evergreens, and mixed them with roses and wild 
flowers, and dressed everv nook and corner in the 
rambling old house. It was a perfect bower. 

The guests were called and the hour arrived. Lit- 
tle, graceful Bessia was exquisite; her complexion was 
pure brunette; her e3'es brilliant and dark. She wore 
a white satin gown trimmed with old lace. M}' father 
gave her to her intended husband, who was as noble 
as herself. In a few moments they two were pro- 
nounced one, and the old Puritan blessing was said. 
Then all prepared for the feast which lasted several 
hours. 

We all felt that the Bessia we loved was no more 
ours. She was anothers. Her wedding gift from mv 
father was a beautiful home, but they did not occupy 
it for two years, Mr. Bennet continuing in father's 
business, and they remained with us. In the course 
of that two years they had a very nice little boy. 
They called him John, but we called him Jony, for 
a baby name. He was the pride of our house. 

It is but a few years since I \isited them in the 



Life Sketches and Poems. 13 

East. My first thought was, where is my Jony, as I 
used to call him, I was very much surprised to hear 
that he was married and lived in Portland, Maine, and 
was captain of one of the steamers that run between 
Eastport and Boston. He was all the son they ever 
had. They had two daughters; both had married 
well. 

What a change in twenty-five years. I could sav 
the trees appear much taller; the stream appears 
less wide, and even the Atlantic's blue waters had not 
the charm of childhood. Those by-gone days can 
never be recalled. 



Jlliinicapolis, Alay ^ili, iSg^. 

The snow of the winter is gone; 

The sun is now beaming on the meadows and rills, 

On the valleys and hills, 

And the groves are all vocal with song. 

It is pleasant to welcome the spring, 

Viewing nature so fair, 

And inhaling the air. 

With the strength and vigor it brings. 

There is no month so glorious as May, 
For the winter has vanished away, 
And bright sunshine and showers 

Invite the sweet flowers to spring from their coverings 
of clay. 



14 Life Sketches and Poems. 

There is beautiful blue in the skies, 
And nature's mantle of green meets our eyes. 
Oh, the country looks grand, our own native land, 
The home of the brave and the free. 

And we will thank our Lord of Hosts. 
And in our Pilgrim Fathers boast. 
That they landed on this coast, 
To make us free. 



TJie Evening Hearthstone. 
Gladly now we gather round it. 

For the toiling day is done. 
And the gray and solemn twilight 

Follows down the golden sun. 

Shadows lengthen on the pavement, 
Stalk like giants through the gloom ; 

Wander past the dusky casement, 
Creep around the fire-lit room. 

What care we for outward seeming, 
Fickle fortune's frown or smiles, 

If around us love is beaming; 
Lo\'e can human ills bei^uile. 

'Neath the cottage roof and palace, 
From the peasant to the king, 

All are quaffing from life's chalice 
Bubbles that enchantments bring. 

Grates are glowing, music flowing 
From the lips we love the best, 

Oh, the jo}', the bliss of knowing 
There are hearts whereon to rest. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 15 

My father took m\' oldest brother on board the shiji 
at seven years of age, and put him in care of a tutor 
to educate hiim for a sea captain, which in time he be- 
came. He took command of a brig at the age of 
eighteen years. He could sail a bhip up the Straits of 
Gibralter, and he was destined for that place when a 
stroke of the yellow fever laid him low. 



Lines on the death of Captaiu Oliver Brozvn. 

He sleeps far aw a}- from his home, in a land 

Beyond the Atlantic's blue wave, 
Where the soft spic}^ breezes 

Blow gentle and bland 
As they sigh o'er his early made grave. 

He has sailed his last voyage. 

His hardships are o'er; 
He lies in the cold, silent tomb; 

The home that he loved he shall visit no more, 
From a land where the wild roses bloom. 

Oh well may we mourn for the loss of a friend. 

So noble, so manl}- as he; 
We oft shed a tear when a lone thought we send 

To a grave far awa}- o'er the sea. 

But I trust we shall meet 

In that beautiful land. 

When the short voyage of life shall be o'er; 

In that better land 

Where the mourner finds rest. 

And parting is known .ne\'er more. 



i6 Life Sketch);s and Poems. 

My brother's death was very sudden. A New York 
company was building a ship to go up the straits of 
Gibralter, into the Mediterranean Sea, and he was to 
be captain ot the ship. While they were rigging the 
ship for the voyage, he went out to Nassau, in one of 
the West India Islands, after a load of fruit. They had 
nearly completed their cargo, when the first mate and 
himself took a walk up on the Island. Thev came 
to a point that extended into the sea. It was a grove 
of weeping willows. The mate said my brother 
picked out a spot of ground under a weeping willowy 
and said if he had got to die he would like to be laid 
there. The mate said when he made that remark, a 
cold chill came over him, he could not tell whv. That 
night he was called to my brother's state-room and 
found him very sick, and unconscious. 1 hey ctdled a 
doctor, who ordered the mate to put the brig to sea, 
saying, if that would not save him, he must die. They 
put to sea, but it was impossible to save him: he suf- 
fered six da^'s and died. 

They returned to the island and buried him in the 
mound he had selected, only eight days before. He 
was not twenty-one years of age when he died. But 
he had made his mark. When only ten years of age 
he saved my father's ship from being lost. The pilot 
had lost his reckoning through several days of fog. 
My brother had kept a log-book, and knew all the 



Like Sketches and Poems. 17 

soundings. He told father that if: the pilot kept that 
course the ship would be lost. The pilot would not 
hear to him until they heard the breakers roar, and had 
only time to put the ship about to save their lives. 
Then the pilot took my brother in his arms and walked 
the deck. Father said he shed tears hke a child. He 
w^as not like the most of boys. He never had a boy- 
hood. He cared not to play. 

My brother was my mother's idol. She was a 
purely Christian mother, but she had a great weak- 
ness. She idolized her boy. Many a time did she lift 
her heart up to God in prayer for him, when the win- 
ter gales would be raging without. Her face would 
wear an anxious look, and she would utter in piteous 
tones, "Oh! my dear boy, he is on the ocean this fear- 
ful night; O God, preserve him; bring him once more 
to my bosom." 

My brother loved his mother. He thought no one 
could fill her place. Perhaps that was why she loved 
him so dearly. We all loved him. It was very hard 
to be reconciled to his death, and think that one so 
noble and manly as he, with so much command, should 
be taken from loving friends and home. 

God washes the eyes until they behold 
The otherwise invisible land where tears 
Shall come no more. 
O love, O affliction, ye are the guides that • 



i8 Life Sketches and PoE^!S. 

Show us the way through the great air}' 
Space where our loved ones w^alked. 
God teaches us while our sorrow is tear-wet 
To follow on and tin d our dear ones in Heaven. 



After my brother's death, when father was on the 
ocean, we would gather around mother and ask her to 
tell us about their early life. She would sit for hours 
and tell us about our father, but if my brother's name 
was mentioned, then all would be hushed. She never 
spoke of him without shedding tears. Many a time 
did she try to conceal them, slill in her heart she felt 
that she would meet him again. We knew his life. 
He was a pure }'oung man and a great loss to oui" 
family. 

If our troubles were in the light of God's power, 
love, faithfulness, and wisdom, they wo\ild become to 
us small burdens. Why .should we not so regard 
them ? 

My mother was a member of the Methodist Episco- 
pal church. She joined that body when she was 
twenty 3'ears old, and she was a faithful member, high- 
ly cultured for those times. She had largeness of 
mind and depth of thought, and she taught us honesty, 
virtue, truthfulness, and the spirit of duty. She was 
everything to us that could be expected of a mother. 
I win say to m}- mother's memory that she was that 



Life Sketches and Poems. 19 

link that bound me to seek that better part that I trust 
will never be taken from me. 

My mother in teaching and dealing with us would 
sacredly observe our traits, which, if neglected in early 
life, will most assuredly mar the character in after 
years, and show' to the world the defect of parental 
training. 

She was kind, with true politeness. In her inter- 
course wath us and with others in our presence, she 
would say to us, ''You know, dear children, that pre- 
cept without example makes no lasting impression for 
good." She would raise her voice in prayer, saying, 
"O, m}- Father, help me to train these dear children 
for duty, usefulness, and Heaven. Yes, I know dear 
Lord Thy grace is sufficient." She would so often 
repeat those words to us, that we felt that we must 
help to bring each other up. 

Mother was not strong, but she had a powerful 
mind. She would say "think of the trust that's com- 
mitted to m}' care; an immortal soul inhabiting a mor- 
tal body, to be nursed and trained and educated for 
time and eternity." She would teach us that obedi- 
ence was the foundation of moral character; and if 
you will yield your wall to your parents, you have 
taken the first step toward yielding to your God, your 
great heavenly Parent. 

Mother would try to have us go to our beds happy. 



20 Life Sketches and Poems- 

As soon as we knew how to bend our knee she would 
have us kneel around her, with her hands upon our 
heads while we repeated our litile prayers. 
When gliding round my mother's knee, 

Made up of innocence and love, 
Her soft, sweet voice would sing to me 
And tell me of the joys above. 

At the age of three-score and ten, while I write it 
seems that I can feel that soft hand upon my silvery 
head and see those soft blue eyes looking into mine. 

Oh, my angel mother ! I feel that your memories 
have buoyed me up through sickness. I have felt that 
soft kiss upon my burning brow. Oh, my mother ! 
While I am writing out this earh^ history, composing 
in song, or pointing it out with a groan, my mind runs 
back to one of the best of homes; prayer, like a roof 
over it; peace, the atmosphere within it. 



My Mother's Bible. 

Parents, the personification of faith in trials, and 
hope in darkness. 

The two pillars in that home, years ago, fell into 
dust. My dear home, shall I ever forget thee? Yes, 
when memory empties its urn into forgetfulness, then, 
home of my childhood, I will forget thee. 

To-night those old visions come back at their will; 
Far back in my musings a story I'll tell. 
About my dear mother that I loved so well. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 21 

Down by the sea where my childhood was passed, 
By that old kitchen tire that I loved to the last. 

The parlors would shine and be very fair, 
But we loved the old kitchen 
With its fire-place there. 

When we came from our school, 
At the even tide; 

Dear mother was ready to meet us; 
We would sit by her side. 

And then from her bible that 

She loved so well. 

Some beautiful story to us she would tell. 

She would tell of our Savior, 
That came down from the skies. 
And make it so simple, 
That which children prize. 

When we took our books 
And were trying to explore 
All those hard lessons 
That children deplore; 

Then she would come with eyes all aglow, 
And say, "What's the matter. 
You are frowning so." 

Her smile was so gentle 
When us she did chide, 
Our lessons were nothing 
With her for our guide. 

To-night those old visions come back with a will, 
I see the blue ocean, the trees on the hill; 



Life Sketches and Poems. 

And that lovely strand where in childhood we'd 

slide 
And watch the dark w^aters on the ebb of the tide; 
And I see that dear mother in a spirit form glide, 
As she watches her daughter on the ebb of her 

tide. 



My Father s Travels by Sea. 

I spoke of my father being a sea captain. In his 
youth he studied law, which did not agree with his 
health. His physician told him he liad better take a 
sea voyage. He crossed the ocean and traveled one 
year. In that time he had regained his health. He 
put what money he had into a ship, and with a good 
navigator he sailed her. He \Nas very lucky on the 
ocean, never losing but one ship in a period of thirty 
years. 

He took his law books aboard the ship. Often be- 
fore it was time to retire I would sit with him in his 
state-room. I had to go through his room to mine. 
Sometimes I would sa}', "Father, you are studying 
late." He would reply : "Fortune is usually on the 
side of the industrious, as the wind and waves are on 
the side of the best navigator." He was a \-ery firm 
man aboard ship; was very temperate, and would not 
allow his seamen to drink aboard of the vessel. He 
would say: "The drunkard is at the mercy of the 
unprincipled." 



Life Sketches and Poems. _ 23 

Wlien we would encounter a hard storm I would 
look anxiously at my father. I did not dare to make 
any trouble, or show a spirit of fear. He would say 
to me: "M}^ daughter, if you will sail the ocean with 
your father, you must help the ship to outride the 
storm." He would say: "Read your bible; it tells 
you how Christ calmed the waves; look to your God." 
Then I would read of the storm on Galilee, where 
our Saviour was asleep on the pillow, and his disciples 
had almost lost faith in their Lord. 



A Storm 0)1 Lake Galilee. 
Our Saviour exhausted, weary and worn, 
Lies down in the boat as she glided along, 
Sleeping so sw^eetly on Lake Galilee, 
When a terrible storm arose on that sea. 

The boat rocked high upon a wave, 

It seemed the lake must be their grave; 

His disciples aloud did mourn, 

They knew their Master was tired and worn; 

They feared His love for them had flown. 

When the storm was very high. 
Then their Master heard their cry; 

He rebuked the angry sea. 

And all was calm on Galilee. 



A Description of Maine. 
I give a small sketch of Maine, my native state. 
The state that I loved. I loved it because it was my 



24 Life Sketches and Poems. 

childhood's home. The beautiful coast of Maine was 
served by a regular steamship line as early as 1823, 
one year before I was born; the boats running from 
Boston to Portland, and from there to Bath, touching 
at the principle places on the coast. 

Kennebec is famous wherever its blue waters flow, 
for its strong, staunch vessels. Maine is blessed with 
a net-work of five thousand one hundred and fifty-one 
streams, the chief of which is the Penobscot, two 
hundred and seventy-five miles long, and navigable to 
Augusta. 

The rock bound coast of a hundred harbors of 
Maine extends two thousand four hundred and eight^•- 
six miles in a line, and is only broken by the great 
Passamaquoddy, Penobscot, and Casco, each of them 
abounding in beautiful islands. 

Summer resorts are very plentiful in the Northern 
Park, which is far above the range of malaria, mos- 
quitoes, and heat. There are summer hotels and cot- 
tages all along the coast. From ancient Kittery, York, 
and Wells, Kennebunkport, Old Orchard and Scar- 
borough, with many lovely islands in Casco Bay. 

Maine is a land of variable winds, gentle rains, 
sudden changes, and heavy sea fogs. With cooler 
summers and warmer winters. The summers are 
short, with hardly fix'e months between frosts. 
Malarial diseases are rare, but consumption causes 
one-fourth of the deaths. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 25 



One of the most charming and most widely known 
summer resorts in America, patronized by distinguished 
people from both continents, is Poland Springs, 
twenty-five miles north of Portland. It is reached by 
a delightful stage ride from Danville Junction, where 
the Maine Central and Grand Trunk cross. Among 
the venerable pine and oak groves out upon the hill 
tops which look over leagues of lakes and valleys, and 
out upo*n the White Mountains, stands the Poland 
Spring House, with its broad frontage, five hundred 
feet long, and all modern devices for giving comfort 
and luxury to people that wish to gain their health. 
Close bv is the Mansion House, smaller, but very at- 
tractive, and open all the year round. 

The United States buildings include the beautiful 
white marble Post Office, and the granite Custom 
House at Portland. 

Augusta is the capital of Maine. The state house 
on the bights overlooks the Kennebec river. It is a 
beautiful structure of white marble. It dates from 
eighteen twenty-eight. 

In eighteen thirty-six my father. Captain Oliver 
Brown, bought of government eight hundred acres of 
land quarries on an island in the Penobscot Bay, called 
Vinalhaven. He kept stone-cutters for several years 
cutting stone, but in those days the value of those 
quarries w^as not known. The Bodwell Vinalhaven 



26 Life Sketches and Poems. 

Company has quarried the longest piece of stone ever 
cut in the world. Its length was one hundred and fif- 
teen feet. From the quarr}- was taken much of the 
stone for the Cincinnati Post Office and the State De- 
partment building at Washington. 

V^inalhaven lays in the Penobscot bay fifteen miles 
from Rockland. Those islands are covered with beau- 
tiful granite in many colors. Pen cannot describe the 
delight that island has afforded me. The island is 
twelve miles long and seven wide. It is diversified 
into mountains, beautiful valleys, forests and strand, 
where the Atlantic's blue water flowed over beaches 
of white sand. 

I was only twelve years old at that time, but I loved 
that island, and I could say, be it mine to dwell by her 
rivulet side, and make my home by her bounding tide. 

I think you could not mention a small fruit that did 
not grow on that island. How I enjoyed going out 
with those fisher girls to pick berries. When we were 
tired of picking berries, we would run onto the ledges 
and pick wintergreens out of the seams. 

We had a little pleasure boat in which we 
used to go back and forth to that island. When 
father's ship was in port he would go to the island 
to look after his quarries. It was my delight to go 
with him, and I often went. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 27 

A Narrozv Escape. 

One pleasant September morning we took our little 
boat and started out for the island. Our boat was a 
sloop and had only two sails. We were gliding over 
the water in our beautiful Sea Bird. We had fifteen 
miles to go with a fair wind. It would take one hour. 
Father took the mate of the ship along, as it took 
two to care for the boat. We had not got half our 
distance when to our horror we saw a large shark fol- 
lowing in our wake. Father was a very firm man, 
but I saw fear upon his face. He told me to he down 
in the bottom of the boat. I obeyed orders without 
making any trouble. I expected our time had come. 

The shark would come alongside of the boat and 
raise himself to get his breakfast, but we were very 
fortunate. There had been a stick of timber cut for 
some purpose that lay in the boat. We could truly 
say that was our life defence. Sometimes we would 
think we must be upset by the monster, but our little 
boat would battle with the waves, although most filled 
with water. The mate would stand firm and strike 
the shark with all his strength, which was great. He 
fought that shark for six long miles. He never left 
till we came round a point to enter the harbor. 

Dear reader, you may be assured we were happy 
when we saw that shark take his departure. I found 



28 Life Sketches and Poems. 

myself in the bottom of the boat almost covered 
with water. 

My father said he had sailed the ocean twenty-tive 
years but had never had a narrower escape than he 
had that day. The mate said it was my father's man- 
aging the boat that saved us. He was skilled in the 
swell of the deep, knew how to trim the little sails to 
catch the breeze, and the handling of that little helm 
to force the boat over the waves. 

So it is in all cases. Success turns on the use we 
make of our opportunities; on the promptitude with 
which we seize the openings of Providence; on the 
earnestness of the character we bring into the field. 

I will say we arrived in due time, and went to the 
best hotel the island afforded, that was but one. We 
refreshed ourselves. Those who could not borrow 
clothes had to sit in the sun until they were dry. 



A Fearful Storm. 

I think I never experienced but one storm that I felt 
the fear that I did that day. Our ship was ready; we 
started out all canvas set, a fair wind and a sea all 
sun. 

We had not sailed far when a storm overtook us. 
The clouds became lurid and glassy. A great wind, 
harsh and tempestuous, was causing the ship to sag 
under her heavy weight of canvas, which had to be 



LiFK Sketches and Poems. 



29 



clewed up. It was awfu} to hear tlie speaking- 
trumpet through that terrible darkness; every man 
had to be at his post, and obey the word of command. 
Nothing could be seen, only by the bolts of hght- 
ning which would make us stagger with pain. It 
struck terror to the boldest seamen; when they were 
not obeying commands they were trembling, dumb 
in the awful silence. 

Just before the morning broke my father came to 
my state-room and said, "My daughter, we see a faint 
yellow light. All night the clouds have gathered 
against us, seemingly determined to sink our ship, but 
the wind has changed; it is now in our favor; cheer 
up, my daughter, we shall see home and mother once 
more." I knew that night that one thing was in our 
favor. We were sailing across that ocean whose 
waters never shrink, and where the keel never rubs 
the bottom. Father never Hked to hang upon the 
coast and explore lagoons, or swing at anchor in wind 
sheltered bays. 

Father would sometimes have freight up the lower 
Mississippi. He dreaded that place. In eighteen forty 
before improvements had been made, as you go up 
the sound, you would find a perfect maze of islands, 
bays and peninsulas. Bayous abounding in fish and 
water fowl. Before you get to New Orleans the 
river was full of snags and sand bars. It was almost 



30 Life Sketchics and Poems. 

impossible, with tlie best of navigators, to go up the 
river. Father would often say he had rather take an 
ocean voyage. 

I have a little anecdote to relate. Our ship lay at 
the quay, taking in a cargo of sugar. One morning a 
gentleman came aboard of the ship. He was one of 
the planters thiit had an interest in the cargo. He 
came to invite father and myself to dine with him. I 
declined; father went. He said he was served with 
the best of viands. After dinner the planter invited 
him to see his wife, who had recenth' become a moth- 
er. Father said the surroundings were of the richest 
tapestry, and everything denoted wealth and refine- 
ment. The planter stepped to the bedside and raised 
the curtain. What was my father's astonishment to 
see, reclining on a white pillow, a black woman, the 
wife of a white man, as highlv cultivated as he was. 
That was a sample of New Orleans. 

Lake Ponchartrain is a land-locked salt water estu- 
ary, just north of New Orleans. When I knew that 
lake, railroads were not known there. 

The Mississippi river has five hundred and eighty- 
five miles of navigable waters in and along Louisiana. 
The Mississippi below New Orleans, and especially 
for the thirty-six miles of coast above Port Jackson, 
is lined with beautiful 'oran<>-e trroves. The Missis- 
sippi flows down the country- on the top of a ridge. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 31 

which is formed by its deposits of drift. Above Ba- 
ton Rouge the river is bordered by bluffs, which at 
Port Hudson, reach one hundred feet high. The 
Mississippi contains m^-riads of tall cypress trees, with 
their silken foliage, and palmetloes, with their vivid 
gr.een spears. 



Description of the Mississippi. 
Lake Itasca, how grand you must be. 
Situated so high above the sea, 
With the Father to recline on your knee: 
History says it is quiet and still, 
Surrounded by foliage on the top of a hill. 

It is a wonder, it raised a son. 

That through to the Gulf its course would run. 

Mississippi, a beautiful name, 

It has filled the world with its beauty and fame. 

On it went at hrst very mild, 

After leaving home it was no more a child; 
The first that was done that history detines, 
Was three little steamboats put on a line 
To carry supplies to the men felling pine. 

Time rolled on, it became very great; 

Its breadth was one thousand two hundred feet, 

Before St. Anthony it did meet, 

Then with a rush and roar 

Over St. Anthony it did pour. 

Roll on Mississippi, through our beautiful cit}-, 
Fair Minnie is waiting for a long embrace; 



32 Life Sketches and Poems. 

She thinks she has the heart of the river, 
It kisses her sweetly on both sides of her face. 

St. Paul, her brother, though not so saintly 
As his namesake of old, 

Is a fine gentleman, has a great command 
With the Faiher of Waters bowing before him 

To carry our shipping to e\erv land. 

Its shores are bold and rocky below. 
It made it rough; it wanted to flow; 

Sixty miles further you will see 

This beautiful river widen from one mile to three. 

Then it goes on tw'enty-fi\e miles more; 

It has laid out a beautiful lake on its shore. 
This lake is beautiful to behold, 
With its sky-tinted water and legends of old. 

It tells of the robber's cave and the sugar loaf 

so fine, 
And the Maiden's Rock near the French border 
line. 
All history will tell you the same, 
That lovel}' lake is Pepin bv name. 

Good-bye, Lake Pepin, with )our water so bright, 
I am throu 'h for the Gulf. I must run all ni<{ht. 

It rolls away wnth a great bound, 

Through fores' s and mountains it ripples 
around. 

It has invited the small streams to help fill its bowl; 
Without the levee it could not be controlled. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 33 

It has crone south one thousand three hundred 
And thirty miles to the confluence 
Of the Missouri, which is very mild. 

Mississippi with its placid tide 

Refuses to mingle with so yellow a bride; 
On it goes, it has got quite content 
To mintjle with water of so low a descent; 

It makes it feel sluggish, it has lost its pride, 

It creeps into ba3-ous and swamps by its side. 

It has had a long journey from its mountain 

home, 
Four thousand three hundred and eighty miles to 
roam. 
Old Mississippi, its travel most done. 
Its down to Orleans in a very warm sun. 
With the magnolia blooms to bow at its feet, 
And the Gulf of Mexico to lull it to sleep. 



A Shipzureck. 
In the spring of eighteen forty my father sailed on 
a West India voyage, taking my youngest brother. 
He always wanted one of the family with him. They 
had sailed three days. The weather was iine and the 
voyage looked prosperous, but on the fourth day a 
very bad storm came up which lasted three days. 
The ship was dismasted, floating at the mercy of the 
wind and waves. The time soon came that the pumps 
would not free the ship. Father said he knew from 



34 Life Sketches and Poems. 

the commencement of the storm that the ship would 
be lost. It went down, three hundred miles from 
land. 

Then came the anxiety as to how they should save 
themselves. They had collected several days' provis- 
ions which the}' took with them into the hfe boats. 
Father said they had no trouble after the ship went 
down. The wind ceased blowing and the angry waves 
became calm. The third day at noon they discov- 
ered a sail. They raised a signal and the ship bore 
down and took them aboard. The ship was bound 
for the East Indies. They were very glad to be res- 
* cued, but it was carrying them far away from home. 
At the time our ship went down a homeward bound 
vessel saw it, but the storm was so hard that they 
could not help them. The captain came to my moth- 
er and told her that my father's ship with all on board 
had sunk to the bottom of the sea. He said he saw 
her go down. It w^as nearly six months before we had 
tidings from them. We mourned them as dead, sup- 
posing they had all perished. In those days it was an 
eighteen months' voyage to the East Indies and re- 
turn. Judge of our surprise when a ship came in 
bringing news that father and brother would soon be 
at home. That was better to us thas the prodigal son. 
We did certainly make a feast and rejoiced with those 
that we loved. 



Life Skktches and Poems. 



35 



My father's loss was very heavy, he owned most of 
his ship and cargo. His insurance in the custom 
house had been out forty-eight hours when the ship 
went down. 

Death of a Li I tic Sister. 

He could not be reconciled to his loss; we were 
alarmed about him. In a few weeks after he returned 
home my little sister, l^ve years of age, her papa's 
idol, was taken sick, and in a few days was laid in the 
silent tomb. It seemed that God had taken that way 
to bring him back to realize what he was doinp". He 
then felt that God was just to punish him for mourn- 
ing over the loss of property. Happily, before it was 
too late, his mind was turned into a more healthy 
channel. 

The death of my little sister had tended to make 
him more serious in the ways of religion. I think if 
it had not been for my mother's influence, my father 
would have lost his reason, the loss of his ship preyed 
so heavily upon his mind. Mother created about him 
an atmosphere of hope and cheerfulness, and nowhere 
did the sunshine of her love seem so bright as when 
she was doing something to make him drop the stu- 
por that he had fallen into. 

Mother would often say to father, "A life well spent, 
a character uprightly sustained, is no slight legacy to 
leave to one's children. It is a lesson in virtue, and the 



36 Life Sketches and Poems. 

best kind of riches."' I knew that mother was kind 
and good, and by being with her she would not fail to 
impart some of it to us. I remember when I was 
young the influence she would use over my father. It 
was not so much in religious discussions, as she gave 
him a deeply religious nature. My father became 
more self controlled, and went back to the study of| 
law. He said the. death of his dear little girl had 
taught him a lesson that never would be effaced from 
his memory. 

My father was a strong, original, and even a fiery 
nature, and yet of extreme tenderness and sensibility. 
A strong temper is not necessaril}- a bad temper, but 
the stronger the temper the greater is the need of 
self-control. 

Father was not poor as to houses and lands, but it 
was very hard after saiHng his ship thirty years, and 
he felt he was too far advanced in years to invest 
again. His nature was such that he could sail for no 
one but himself. He could not be brought down to in- 
vest in small things. He would say that any class of 
men that lived from'hand to mouth will ever be an in- 
ferior class. They will necessarily remain impotent 
and helpless; hanging on to the skirts of society, and 
having no respect for themselves, they will fail to se- 
cure the respect of others. 

As daylight can be seen through very small holes, 



Life Sketches and Poems. 37 

SO little things will illustrate a person's character. In- 
deed, character consists in little acts well and honora- 
bly performed. Gentleness about our homes is like 
the silent influence of light, which gives color to all 
nature. It is far more powerful than loudness or force. 
The in- bred politeness that springs from righthearted- 
ness and kindly feelings is no exclusive rank or sta- 
tion. 

The seamen of the ocean are considered to be a 
rough set of men, and so they are, as a body. My 
father would not allow us to speak to one of his sea- 
men, excepting to some of the officers who dined in 
our cabin with us. 

I have seen brave 3'oung men who did not fear to 
risk their lives to save anv of the ship's crew. I have 
seen them in a sudden storm, when the sea would 
make a clean sweep over the ship, and you would think 
there was not one vestige of hope for the vessel, such 
was the fury of the wind and the violence of the 
waves, when 3^ou would think that nothing would 
tempt a seaman into a boat. But let a man be swept 
overboard, which was often the case, and you would 
see how soon they would run down the life boats into 
the surf, and leap in and dash through the breakers 
amidst the cheers of those on board. How^ the boat 
would live in such a sea would seem almost a miracle; 
but in a few minutes, impelled by the strong arms of 



38 LiFK Sketches and Poems. 

those gallant men, she flew on and reached their com- 
rade, catching him on the top of a wave. My father 
would say, "There is gentlemanly heroism." 



Tnic Christian I^iving. 

True Christian living in the world is like a ship 
sailing on the ocean. It is not the ship being in the 
water which will sink it, but the water getting into 
the ship. So, in like manner, the christian is not ru- 
ined by living in the world, which he must needs do 
while he remains in the body, but by the world living 
in him. The world in the heart has ruined thousands 
of immortal souls. 

How careful is the mariner to guard against leak- 
age, lest the water, entering into the vessel, should, by 
degrees, cause the vessel to sink. Ought not the 
christian to watch and pray lest Satan and the world 
should find some unguarded inlet to his heart. 



The Rule of Three. 

The sea, the sea, the open sea. 
The fresh, the blue, the ever free. 
Without a mark, without a bound. 
It runneth the world's wide region 'round 

Vv'^hen I was 3'oung and in my pride. 
On the sea I loved to ride. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 39 

With its bounding billows rolling high; 
The mad waves would nearly touch the sk3^ 

But now I am old I cannot roam; 

My hair is gray as the ocean's foam, 
But my heart is young and leaps to hear 
The ocean scenes that are wild and drear. 

When our ship from land was far away, 
And the rippling water round did play, 
Then I would sit by m}^ father's knee 
While he taught to me the rule of three. 

Sometimes I would wish in my childish glee 

That a storm would come and awake the sea, 
Then how happy I would be ; 
There would be no more of the rule of three. 

When our ship la}^ at the quay, 

Or was anchored in the bay, 
Gathering shells would be my pride 
Along with my little negro guide. 

Those were happy days for me. 

Far away o'er the deep blue sea, 
Selecting shells that were very fair 
To give to my friends for souvenirs. 

But that ship that lay at the quay. 

Or was anchored in the bay, 
Long ago was swept away, 
Now in ruin and decay, 

And that dear father no more I'll see, 

Who taught to me the rule of three; 
He like the ship has fled 
And is numbered with the dead. 



40 Life Sketches and Poems. 

God has written upon the httle violet of the field that 
no one livetli to himself. I saw somewhere ihe other 
other day a sentence like this: "The truest courtesy 
is the truest Christianity." This is not simply saying, I 
take it, that a Christian will be a gentleman; it teaches 
that the spirit of self-d'enial, of foregoing personal ad- 
vantages for the sake of favoring another, is the root 
and substance of the rejjenerated life. 

In the collisions of Der:?onal interests throucjh the 
day, if we are more careful to favor ourselves; to grat- 
ify our own wishes rather than others, I care not what 
name we bear or what profession we make, the spirit 
of the Master is not in us. But if we are the possess- 
ors of that true spirit it will teach us so to live that we 
will not be afraid to die. "Lead us not into tempta- 
tion" should ever remind us of our utter weakness 
and absolute dependence on Almighty God. 

I have known many who gave brilliant promise, 
who have dazzled onl}' to disappoint. There was a 
cankering influence for gold that ruined the man with 
all his wealth, while his friend and schoolmate chose 
that part that would never be taken from him. 

How great a bounty and blessing it is to hold the 
royal gift of the soul so that there shall be music for 
some, fragrance to others, and life to all. It would be 
no unworthy thing to live for each other's comfort; to 
scatter sunshine where onlv clouds and shadows reicrn; 



Life Sketches and Poems. 41 

to fill the atmosphere where earth's weary toilers 
must stand with a brightness which they cannot till for 
themselves, and which they long to enjoy. 

If we say anything about a neighbor or friend, or 
even a stranger, we should say no ill. Social conver- 
sation, as known to every observer, is largely made up 
of what is best understood by the term of scandal. 
"Blessed is the peacemaker." We had better a thou- 
sand times set dumb, than to open our lips, ever so el- 
oquent, in the disparagement of others. We have th^ 
Golden Rule. If we do unto others as we would that 
others should do unto us, we shall be exceedingly care- 
ful not to speak ill words about them. 



The Golden L iiie. 
Two little boys stood at two mothers' knees. 
Weaving a w^eb their hearts to please; 
One wove in a golden line, 
The other wove truth that was divine. 

One the financial valley trod. 

The other traveled the highway to God. 

The one in the valley with his golden fine. 

Soon into a cable he did twine. 

The one in the highway said, "Dear brother, be- 
ware, 

God's highway is not troubled with glare; 
Because you flourish in worldly affairs. 
Don't be haughty and put on airs." 



42 LiEE Sketches and Poems. 

He did not heed what his friend had told, 
His mind was absorbed in the glittering gold; 

He strove hard for that paltry pelf, 

To lay away upon his shelf. 

The stock went down, the}' had to fail. 
He bought it up, and was king of the rail; 
Then he was proud and turned up his nose 
At poorer people in plainer clothes. 

The one on the highway would still claim his kin, 
He hoped his brother in the valley to win; 

You will find, dear brother, if you will but try, 
That the best of the world is a path to the sky. 

Now the story will soon be told. 

He heeded not with his cable of gold; 

In a ver}^ short time the world was shocked, 
He was king of commerce and ruled the stock. 

He rushed along with his great wealth, 

Never thinking about his health. 

Until Death came and made a decree — 

He said, -'You must go over the river with me." 

He said, "Oh, no, the river is cold. 
Your boat is small, it won't hold my gold." 
But Death came near, and was very bold. 
He took him away — he left his gold. 

And the one on the road that led to God 
Took the same steps that Christ had trod; 
''Give dear Savior a heart wholly thine, 
A heart that can feel mv beloved is mine." 



Life Sketches and Poems. 43 

He goes down to the river with a heart full of 

love, 
Clad in that armor sent down from above, 

All stains washed away, in robes of pure white, 
He will dwell with his Saviour in endless de- 
light. 

To Geneva. 

Geneva, my own little darling, 
A blossom of sweet-scented May, 

I ask not a life for you darling, 
All radiant, as others have done, 

But that hfe may have enough shadow 
To temper the glare of the sun. 



Never Mind. 
What's the use of always fretting 

At the trials we shall find 
Ever strewn along our pathway? 

Travel on, and never mind. 

Travel onward, ever hoping, 
Cast no lingering look behind 

At the trials once encountered. 
Look ahead and never mind. 

What is past, is passed forever, 
Let all fretting be resigned, 

It will never help the matter. 
Do your best and never mind. 

And if those why might befriend you 
Whom the ties of nature bind 



44 Life Sketches and Poems. 

Should refuse to do their duty, 
Look to Heaven and never mind. 

Fate ma}^ threaten, clouds may lower, 
Enemies may be combined; 

If your trust in God is steadfast 
He will help you, never mind. 



Not Lost. 



The look of sympathy, the gentle word 
Spoken so low that onl}^ angels heard, 
The secret art of pure self-sacrifice. 
Unseen by men but marked by angel's eyes, 
These are not lost. 

The sacred music of a tender strain 
Wrung from a poet's heart by grief and pain, 
And chanted timidly wdth doubt and fear 
To busy crowds who scarcely stop to hear, 
This is not lost. 

The silent tears that fall at dead of night 
Over soiled robes that once were pure and white; 
The prayers that rise like incense from the soul, 
Longing for Christ to make it clean and whole. 
These are not lost. 

The happy dreams that gladden'd all our youth, 
When dreams had less of self and more of truth ; 
The childhood faith, so tranquil and so sweet, 
Which set like INlar}- at the Master's feet, 
These are not lost. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 45 

Not lost. Oh Lord, for in thy City bright 
Our eyes shall see the past by clearer light, 
And things long hidden from our gaze below 
Thou wilt reveal, and we shall surely know, 
They are not lost. 



I had a sister younger than myself. She married a 
sea captain. My people were very much opposed to 
the imion, but it was impossible to rhake an impression 
on her. When a woman makes up her mind that she 
is in love, and that she really has an idol, you might as 
well go to the Gulf of Mexico and order the Mississippi 
to roll back to its mother lake, as to think of preventing 
a union between those parties. Her husband was 
wealthy and able to sail his ship, but was very unfor- 
tunate. He was always meeting with some trouble. 
That was why father was opposed t:) the union. He 
knew my sister loved the ocean, and would most as- 
suredly sail with her husband. 

The first voyage after their marriage was a fair 
one. She said she would turn his luck, but father 
laughed at her folly. He told her luck was in the 
management of the ship. His vessel was bound for 
the East Indies. They set sail with a fair wind, and 
everything favorable. 1 hey had sailed ten days when 
they encountered a heavy storm which swept the sea 
for three days; on the fourth night the captain went 
to his wife's state-room and told her the vessel was 



46 Life Sketches and Poems- 

sinking, and that if she had a prayer to offer, it was 
time she was about it. He told her the seamen had 
left the pumps, and nothing could save the vessel from 
sinking. She said, " I will go up and pump awhile 
before I stop to say that prayer; God says, ' faith with- 
out works is dead.' " She went up in the violence of 
the storm, and commenced to pump. When the sea- 
men saw the captain's wife trying to save the ship, 
they took courage and went to work. In one hour 
the storm abated, and they were saved. She said 
she felt to thank her Heavenly F'ather that He had 
rescued them from a watery grave. 

They arrived in due time, and had a prosperous 
voyage. After that vo3'age, she boarded in South 
Carolina one year. That was her husband's port at 
that time. While there she had a beautiful little girl, 
all that she ever had by that husband. When it was 
six months old she brought it with its nurse home to 
my mother. 



Shipwreck and Loss of Life. 

She had a passion for the sea, and would go with 
her husband. She said she had a presentiment, and 
must not take the babe on that voyage. 

It was destined for a longer life than it would have 
had if she had taken it with her. Wlien she left home 
she said, I know we shall have trouble before we re- 



Life Sketches and Poems. 47 

turn. Dear mother, never let my sweet babe 1^0 out 
of the family's care. And see that she is brought up 
and taught as you taught us. 

Then she bid us good bye, and took the boat for 
South Carolina, to meet her husband. 

They took the same voyage to the East Indies. 
When not far from the same latitude they were in 
when they encountered the tirst storm, there arose 
one far more terrible than the tirst. They were four 
days with the sea washing over ihem. The lifth 
night, the ship struck a shoal, and in a few moments 
was in fragments. 

My sister said she and her liusband promised each 
other the}^ would meet death together. They started 
out on some small piece of the vessel, it was very 
dark and the sea was running high. Her husband 
was a good swimmer, but he was washed off while 
she clung to the wreck, which was near a reef of 
ledges. 

In the morning, she saw a man on the ledge, and 
thouc^ht it was her husband. The waves were wash- 
ing her on to the ledge, and she strove wiih all her 
strencfth to clinir to the wreck until she could reach 
the shore. The man that she hoped was her hus- 
band was the second mate of the ship. After she 
was washed on to the ledge she had to cling to the 
rocks to prevent herself from being washed off. 



48 Life Sketches and Poems. 

Two nights and three days they remained on that 
ledge where the sea nearly washed over them. They 
could see ships passing but those on the ships could 
not see them, the ledge being nearly level with the 
ocean. 

Mv sister said she knew her strength was leavinfj- 
her, and that she could cling to those rocks but a few 
hours at the most. She said she felt like leaving 
those rocks and clinging to the cross. It appeared 
that God heard their prayers. A small piece of tim- 
ber floated down against the ledge; the mate secured 
it and took his flannel shirt and made a si^^nal. In 
one hour a vessel bore down to them and took them 
off the ledge. My sister said she knew when they 
took them from the ledge, but that was the last she 
knew for three days. 

The ship was homeward bound, and the captain 
knew her husband. She had the best of care. When 
the ship arrived in Boston, at the quay, the first man 
she saw was her husband. He said he had been look- 
ing for some one every da}-, but could not tell who. 
After leaving his wife he swam some distance and 
came in contact with a jury mast from the ship. He 
clung to that and was taken off next day. There 
were eighteen men including officers. No one else 
was ever heard from. No doubt thev all met a wa- 
tery grave. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 



49 



The ship was heavily insured and the captain had 
nothing to do but to fit up another ship, and they were 
soon on the wide ocean again. That was his last hard 
encounter by water. My sister sailed with him five 
years after that, when he took the yellow fever and 
died in a southern port. My sister nursed him through 
his illness and did not take the fever. She laid him 
away in the sunny south and returned home to her 
little daughter. 



Death Hath no Sting. 

Jesus came. He died to save. 

Oh, Death it came to open the grave, 

Our lives to demand. 

We are happy to know when it lays us low 

It has no more command. 

It will be our turn to sing, 

Oh, Death, where is thy sting. 

When we enter that beautiful land. 



A Marriage Under Difficulties. 
I have a little anecdote to write. People say that 
no book is complete unless it is spiced with love. My 
sister used to tell this story, and sometimes got very 
mirthful over it. After Captain Smith, her husband, 
lost his ship and took a uew one, my sister took one 
of her schoolmates aboard the ship with her, for a 



50 Life Sketches and Poems. 

companion. They were very much attached to each 
other. The young lady's name was Miss Barton. 
Her father was a retired sea captain, but had run 
tlirough with most of his propert}-. They were proud 
but poor. Miss Barton was called the belle of Rock- 
land. She had a fine voice and was very fascinating. 

Captain Smith's first mate was a Scotchman, by the 
name of McPherson. He was six feet tall, of a very 
commanding appearance, and was highl}^ blessed with 
self esteem. He had a fine education, and was 
a navigator who could sail a ship to all parts of the 
world. His father lived in the Highlands of Scotland 
and was a Scottish chief, and very well acquainted 
with Miss Barton's people, who were highl}' honora- 
ble, but he felt himself very much above them. This 
he was not at all backward in making known, and 
often hurt Miss Barton's feelings. 

They had been out on an East India voyage for 
several weeks and the air of the tropical climate had 
become yery genial. Miss Barton and my sister would 
occupy the quarter deck in the bright moonlight eve- 
nings. They were both fine singers, and the time 
went by very pleasantly. Time passed on and Mc- 
Pherson became very mood3\ ^'^ appetite failed 
him; he did not appear .like the same gallant man, but 
looked crestfallen and forsaken. The captain went to 
the mate's room one morning with the intention of 



Life Sketches and Poems. 51 

asking him what was the matter, although he was 
sure it was a love affair. He knew the disposition of 
the mate, and that he would have to be very careful 
how he approached the subject. The captain said. 

"I have come this morning to inquire after 3-our 
health, and also after your heart. I believe you are in 
love." 

The mate replied. "I suppose vou are anxious to 
know. The truth is. I am in love, and I detest mv- 
self. What would my people sa}' if thev knew their 
son was in love with a poor girl, obscure and un- 
known. But I can say she is lovely and good. Why 
do you laugh and then look so grave. Captain?" 

"I think," answered the captain, "it wauld be im- 
possible for you to marry Miss Barton, if you do 
think that you are her superior and higher in position. 
If you do surpass her in rank, you are not worthy of 
her. I have known Miss Barton from a child. She 
has been m}' wife's companion from childhood, and no 
one can bring a stain upon her character. She is 
pure; and you, with all your wealth and position, can- 
not say that of yourself." 

"Do you think for one moment that Miss Barton 
would not marry me if I should ask her?" 

"I think you w^ould have to change from what you 
are now, before you can gain Miss Barton's hand," 
answered the captain. 



52 Life Sketches and Poems. 

He had never dreamed of that part. He knew his 
position and command, and tliought if he ordered, he 
must be obeyed as much as though he was speaking 
through the trumpet to his men. But lie found his 
mistake. Then he com.menced to arouse himself for 
action. The captain went to his wife's room and told 
her about the mate, and also told her to tell Miss Bar- 
ton to beware of him at present. My sister told her. 
She seemed very much surprised, then she looked pen- 
sive and said: "Mrs. Smith, I would never marry that 
man, with all his honor, wealth, and royal estates." 

For several days Miss Barton kept out of his wav, 
and would not even dine at the table with him. 

Time passed on. and with fair winds they arrived at 
their destined port in the Indies. That lovei\- land is 
very fair, and the atmosphere is laden with the per- 
fume of its luscious fruit. How happy they were af- 
ter a four month's voyage, to once more set their feet 
upon land. 

No one can imagine how lovely those tropical moon- 
light nights are unless they have been in that land. 
My sister said Miss Barton was entranced by her sur- 
roundings, as she had never been in a tropical climate 
before. Sister said she felt a great responsibility for 
her charge, knowing if the mate ever gained his suit 
it would be there. The captain had talked with him 
several times and had found him quite subdued. He 



Life Sketches and Poems. 53 

said, -'Captain, 1 believe Miss Barton has a secret 
power to charm. She has an influence over me that 
I cannot resist when I am in her presence. She en- 
chants me by an irresistible pov^^er that I cannot ac- 
count for. I could be happy to be her slave." The 
captain told him that God had sent that upon him to 
subdue his foolish pride. 

No more was heard about his ''position;" he was 
like a lamb, and asked the captain if he could have an 
interview with Miss Barton. He said his love was 
strictly honorable, and he wished to make her his 
bride. The captain told his wife that she had better 
try to influence Miss Barton, for he did not think she 
would ever get a better husband or one who would 
love her as he did. 

The captain, his wife, and Miss Barton took a stroll 
by moonlight in a beautiful grove and the mate fol- 
lowed them. He thought it was very hard to be kept 
in such suspense, still he knew how scornful he had 
been and he could not blame her in his heart for her 
pride. He met her face to face and stopping her in the 
path, commenced to make an apology. She straighten- 
ed herself up and looking him defiantly in the face, said, 
"Mr. McPherson, I will receive no apology from you, 
neither will I have any conversation wath you," then 
turned and fled swiftly down to the ship and went to 



54 Lii E Sketches and Poems. 

her slate room. Her heart was bursting with con- 
flicting emotions. 

Sister followed her to her room and found her in 
tears. She said, "Please, Mrs Smith, do not invite 
me out again while we are on this voyage." 

"What is the matter?" asked sister. 

"I met Mr. McPherson and would not listen to his 
apology," sobbed the girl. 

Miss Barton was not seen again by the mate for 
some time, and it caused him to feel very moody. 
The captain was really sorry for him for he was in- 
terested in his welfare. He was a good seaman and 
had great ability as a mate; a man of that kind was 
not often found. 

"I wish I could do something for you," said the 
captain. 

The mate flushed, but said, "You can do something 
for me if you will try. You know I love that girl, 
and you can use your influence for me." 

"I am not in a position to help you much," the cap- 
tain answered. "I would not dare to approach Miss 
Barton on the subject. All that can be done will be 
through my wife's influence. I will talk with her, for 
I think she is interested in your welfare." 

Eight bells were striking when the captain left the 
mate at the close of their interview. He took out his 



Life Sketches and Poems. 55 

watch to compare time willi the bells and thought, 
I shall have one iiour to visit with my wife. 

The ladies were sitting together as he entered his 
wife's room. Miss Barton arose, excused herself and 
retired to her room. 

The captain said, "I have one hour that must be 
passed in laying plans for our mate. He would make 
Miss Barton a good husband. She is poor and de- 
pendent and she needs a protector. What influence 
do you think you can have over her?" 

My sister replied, "With her feelings at the present, 
we could not influence her. If we could persuade 
her to dine with him. she might possibly overcome 
that feeling. It seems very heartless to leave her to 
pass her time in her room while we enjoy our repast. 
I think I will say to her, 'It is some trouble for the 
cook to keep your meals warm.' That will probably 
bring her out, but you must caution the mate." 

Miss Barton and my sister passed most of their 
time while the ship was takmg in her cargo, in the 
groves or on the strands gathering shells, and their 
time was passed very pleasantly. At last everything 
was ready, the cargo all aboard, including innumerable 
boxes of shells, sea moss, and sub-marine plants for 
home use; the stevedores were dismissed, and bid- 
ding farewell to the Indies, set the sails for our 
native land, "Sweet home." Then vou could hear the 



56 Life Sketchks and Poems. 

seamen singing "Sweet home" when they were once 
more on the bounding billows. 

There was plenty of time to examine the collection 
made while on their tour; shells of every hue of the 
rainbow, radiant in their beautiful colors, and the time 
passed rapidly while they were making them into 
bouquets as souvenirs for friends. The weather was 
fair and the wind was in their favor and they were 
swiftly nearing their native land. 

Sister persuaded Miss Barton to dine with them. 
She told her it was very annoying to the cook, as he 
had to prepare the meals for the seamen as soon as 
theirs were over, and under these circumstances she 
dined with them. The mate put on a smiling counte- 
nance, but she did not recognize him. He was very 
solicitous, but she would not notice him at all. 

One of Miss Barton's traits was to be a little over- 
bearing. She was warm-blooded and proud above 
her station. Real elegance is a rare quality; rare, ap- 
parentl}', because mar?}' people confuse it with form of 
display or elaboration. One of the greatest charms is 
simplicit}', and it is the charm which, above all others, 
appears to be the most difficult of attainment and pre- 
servation. Simplicity is the real note of refinement, 
of thorough taste and genuine culture. 

Miss Barton was too much of a belle to be a model 
girl; she was pure and good, but of a high spirit. It 



Life Sketches and Poems. 57 

appeared in this case that she could not forgi\'e an in- 
sult. Time rolled on and still the mate could not jjet 
an interview with her. The captain advised him to 
write his acknowledgements to her and see if she 
would answer his note. He wrote. She took no no- 
tice of it. Sister thought she saw some change in her 
manner when she would speak the mate's name, and 
told her to remember that she was poor and depend- 
ent, while he was wealthy and loved her dearly, and 
that she could go to sea with him, as he was even then 
able to have a ship of his own, for his father was 
ready to help him at any time. 

She listened, and then said, "I know I should throw 
away this foolish pride. I could have loved that man 
had he not insulted nie." 

That was good news for m}^ sister. She knew the 
ice was broken, and lost no time in telling her husband 
what Miss Barton had said. It was natural for him to 
go directly to the mate. They had a conference, but 
what was said is best known to themselves. 

When the ship reached home Miss Barton was Mrs. 
McPherson, in silks and diamonds. He bought a 
beautiful home for her parents, then they left for Scot- 
land on their wedding tour. They were gone a 3-ear, 
and then came back to her native land, where he 
bought a ship and she sailed with him for several 
years. In Sevent3'-eight I visited them; they had re- 



58 Life Sketches and Poems. 

tired from ocean life; had two lovely daughters, and 
a beautiful home, and appeared to be very happy. 
From a child she loved to dress and was never happier 
than when dressed to show off to good advantage. 
The youngest child was like her mother. 



The Tender Tie. 

Look back at that first marriage. 
Dear Father in Heaven, how kind 

To make a tie so holy it would 
Man and woman bind. 

We could not have fancied 

Any other wav 
But to have made a female form 

Out of some of Adam's clay. 

God knew that tie must tender be, 

Or Adam would rebel. 
God took a rib from Adam's side; 

He knew he'^d love it well. 

God modeled it with His own hand, 

While Adam lay asleep. 
Into a beautiful female form 

That could love and scold and weep. 

Adam must have felt that tie 

As soon as he awoke. 
To iind a beautiful female form 

Reposing by his side, 
And God to introduce her 

As his lawful bride. 



LiiE Sketches and Poems. 59 

In sympathy, in mind, in affection, 

They may rest, 
God gave a pecuHar emphasis. 

They twain shall be one flesh. 

Oh! Man, you must remember 

Your wife is the better part; 
She was not made of dust. 

But a rib ver\' near your heart. 



Siuiplicity. 

There is nothing more beautiful in the young than 
simplicity of character. It is honest, frank, and at- 
tractive. How different is affectation ! The simple- 
minded are always natural; they are at the same time, 
original. The affected are never natural. As for 
originality, if they ever had it, they have crushed it 
out and buried it from sight. I believe in being my- 
self. For me to attempt to be anybody else would be 
more than folly. I should feel that I was contemptible 
to try it. 

But suppose I could succeed in imitating the great- 
est man or woman that ever figured in history, would 
that make me any better?^ By no means. I would 
only suffer by comparison, and only be thought of as 
the shadow of a substance; the echo of a sound. I 
want the fabric of my character, though ever so poor 



6o Life Sketches and Poems. 

and humble, to be at the least, real. The world has 
frauds and shams enough: I do not wish to add to 
their number. 



What is Life ? 
'Tis the earthl}- hour of trial, 

For a life that's but begun: 
When the prize of self-denial 

May be quickly lost or won. 

What is Death? 
Past its dark, mysterious portal 

Human eye may never roam, 
Yet the hope still springs immortal 

That it leads the w^anderer home. 

Oh, the bliss that lies before us 
When the secret shall be known, 

And the vast angelic chorus 

Sounds the hymn before the Throne ! 

What is fame, or wealth, or life; 

Past are praises, fortune, strife. 
All but love that lives forever cast beneath 

When the good and faithful servant 
takes the wreath. 



Let our port be the home of the blest, the city 
which hath foundation, whose builder and maker is 
God. I w^as taught that I must have a change of 



Life Sketches and Poems. 6i 

heart in order to become one of Christ's family. I 
read the Holy Word, and sought earnestl}^ for that 
blessing. I had been reading till a late hour; then I 
retired and I dreamed I was in a beautiful country. I 
cannot explain the situation. There was one building 
more beautiful than an}' other, and I was anxious to 
enter it. At the door of that building stood a man 
who appeared to be the doorkeeper. His hair was 
parted in the middle of his forehead and fell over his 
shoulders, as white as wool. 

I asked for permission to go in. He laid his hands 
on my head and blessed me, telling me to follow him. 
He opened a door, and I remember distinctly my im- 
pressions while passing through that door. As far as 
my eyes could see stretched beautiful green fields, 
with a river, bordered with bright foliage, flowing 
through the center. I stood transfixed, and gazed 
with inexpressible wonder and delight. 

This beautiful field was inhabited by little children, 
in robes of white, with harps of gold in their hands, 
making music which mingled with the songs of the 
angels of heaven. These children were not walking; 
they floated around like the clouds. 

A beautiful creature came to me, bringing a harp. 
I told her I could not play on it. She told me I could 
try, and even while I tried I was changed, and be- 
came, like the rest, as little children. In that intensity 



62 Life Sketches and Poems. 

of bliss I awoke, and knew that God, for his Son's 
sake, had forgiven my sins. 

At that time I was seventeen years old, but since 
then I have had several of those dreams to help me 
through the rough places of life. My dear reader, I 
suppose you will say, ''The writer has a vivid imagin- 
ation." Stop one moment and think — what is life? 
How soon shall we pass away to be here no more? 
If we put our trust in that Saviour who died on the 
cross that we might have eternal life, God will give us 
strength, through His Son, if w^e will ask in faith, be- 
lieving on Him. * 

If the world could know that sweet repose 
Which none but he who feels it, knows; 

That heavenly calm within the breast. 
Who in their Saviour put their trust. 

Life is a battle to be fought. Inspired b}- high and 
honorable resolves, we must stand to our post and 
know before God that we do our dut^'. 



Saturday JVig/it AIu sings. 

Another week has come and fled, 
'Tis laid away with its silent dead. 

If to-night we were called to go. 
What have we done for weal or woe? 

As God has blessed us out of His store. 
Have we fed the beggar who came to our door? 



Life Sketches and Poems. 63 

It is nothing- to pray ^vith uplifted hands; 
That's a small thing that God demands. 

Have we taken our crosses with faces bright? 
Or under a bushel set our light? 

If under a bushel our light has been lost, 
We have nothing to count for only but dross. 

Oh, when our sun is setting ma}' we glide 
Like summer evening down the golden tide, 

And leave behind us as we pass awa}-, 
Sweet starry twilight round our sleeping clay. 



In 1845, at the age of twenty-one 3'ears, I was mar- 
ried to the man of m}' choice, although my mother 
was opposed to the union, for ni}- husband was not a 
member of the church, but I felt that he was one of 
the purest and noblest of men. He was a civil engi- 
neer by trade. We were engaged for a period of 
five years, and in that time I found that one of his 
noble possessions was a good character. 

We were not as rich in houses and lands as some 
others, but we had something to build upon, for we 
believed that industry, virtue and goodness, should 
rank the highest. 

M}' memory- goes back to my childhood's home, 
where all its belongings were a part of my nature. I 
recall the familiar surroundings, and how closely my 
interests seemed bound up in them. Then the time 



64 Life Sketches and Poems. 

came that those ties must be broken, and I went forth 
into new scenes, with new ties binding themselves 
about me; and since those childhood ties must be 
broken it is well for us to learn to enjoy to the utmost 
our present surroundings. I found a great many kind 
friends, but only one who took the place of ni}' moth- 
er. She would often say to me, "Great is the power 
of goodness to charm and command." 

She gave me her parting blessing as I was going 
far away from that home I loved so well, and told me 
that I must never speak falsely to my husband, or use 
deception in any way. no matter what the circumstan- 
ces might be. I felt the need of all her lessons, and 
knowing her life, I could well believe all she said. 

I think that God, through my mother, inspired me 
to become an instrument in bringing my husband to 
Christ. He became a member of the jMethodist 
Episcopal church in four years after we were married. 
He was the last and tenth one in his family to join the 
church, and there was great rejoicing when he did so. 

I will say to young wives who are leaving home, if 
you have a Christian mother, and listen to her admo- 
nitions, you are rich in knowledge, for it will lead you 
to a life of usefulness. When I left the parental 
roof I had an ideal of what I would be to my 
home and husband. He is long since in the dust, but 
I have a clear conscience before mv God. 



Life Sketches and. Poems. 65 

After our marriage we traveled eighteen months, 
my husband working at his trade. After that we re- 
turned to his home on Sandy River, in Maine. In his 
childhood his father had given three hundred acres of 
land to be divided between himself and a brother. It 
had been improved by planting orchards and shrubbery. 

All of these surroundings were new to me. My 
home had been by the blue Atlantic from my infancy, 
and you ma}^ be assured it was a great change for me, 
but I had a kind and loving husband and I knew my 
place was by his side. We built a beautiful cottage, 
the cost of which did not reach into the thousands, 
but it was our home, and we were independent of any 
one. It was built on a slope rising from the river and 
situated near a sparkling trout brook, where we often 
caught our breakfast from among the tinny tribe. 

Back of the house was a hill; from under it came a 
beautiful cascade of water, which, by the means of 
pipes, was brougiit into the cellar, and from there it 
was carried through the house. 

When our house was completed my father furnished 
it for us. He had many specimens that he had col- 
lected in foreign lands, which he shared with us. 
Everything seemed to be in our favor; we were sail- 
ing on the bright side of life, and to increase our hap- 
piness, God sent us a little son. Then I felt the need 
of more grace in my heart, more than ever before. 



66 Life Sketches and Poems. 

I had a new care; a tiny web to wea\e. If I could 
have had the wisdom at twentv-four years of ajje that 
I have at three-score years and ten, I might have im- 
proved on my webs, but I truly thought I was doing 
my very best. 

I think mothers have a great responsibility when 
the care of a soul is given to them, to fit it for time 
and eternit}'. I think but few realize their position: 
I will give my ideas in a poem, which I call the 



Tiny Web of Life. 
When the tiny web of life begins 

Mothers should watch their babies' sins; 
Blot every error from the web, 

And weave in sunshine in its stead. 

You may size the warp with the oil of truth, 
It will help it along while in its 30uth ; 
God's blessings will attend the truth. 

Draw the warp o'er wisdom's beam. 
You can do it fine without a seam; 

Take the golden rule for the back rood, 
It surely must bring the blessings of God. 

Bind your edges well with prayer, 

Draw through the harness with great care 

Into the reed of faith, hope and love. 

It will bring God's blessings from above. 

Tie the web to the chart of life, 
It will help you to weave through 



Life Sketches and Poems. 67 

This valley of strife, that your web 
May gain eternal life. 

The shuttle must be of the very best wood; 

Determination is very good; 
Oil it well with the oil of love, 

And never forget to look above. 

Now, dear mother, you will weave in the woof, 
Till your web shall leave its parental roof; 

Virtue and patience are inclined. 
Call on them your spools to wind. 

Now, dear mother, your work's began. 

To form a character of a man; 
Oh, wondrous power, how little understood, 

To fashion genius from the soul for good. 

Now, dear mother, thou art weaving 

In the tangled web of life, 
Something more than tender fancies, 

Strength to bear the coming strife. 

Weaving in each little dut}'. 

Better than worldly fame; 
Weaving patience, love, forbearance. 

Humbly in thy Savior's name. 



I think the art of living is best exhibited in the 
home. The husband who has been working all day 
expects to have something as compensation for his 
toil. The least his wife can do for him is to make his 
home snug, clean and tidy, against his home coming 



68 Life Sketches and Poems. 

at eve. Wealth is .not necessary for comfort; luxury re- 
quires wealth, but comfort does not. House thrift, 
though unseen of the world, makes many people hap- 
P3', How happy does a man go forth to his labor or 
his business and how doubly so does he return from it 
when he knows his earnings are carefully husbanded 
and wisely applied by a judicious wife. We cannot 
make our homes happy without method. By arrang- 
ing our work properly," by doing everything at the 
right time, with a view to the economy of labor, a 
large amount of business can be accomplished. The 
woman that has method gets through her work in a 
quiet, steady style, without fuss or noise, or dust 
clouds. 

It is worth every woman's while to study the im- 
portant art of living happily. Even the poorest woman 
may by this means extract an increased amount of joy 
and blessings from life. • 

There are many other illustrations which might be 
adduced of the art of making life happy. The man- 
agement of the temper is an art full of beneficent re- 
sults. By kindness and forbearance we can be happy 
almost at will, and at the same time spread happmess 
about us on every side. W^e can encourage happy 
thoughts in ourselves and others; and above all we 
can ha\c truthfulness. It is the foundation of all per- 
sonal excellence; it shines through every word and 



Life Sketches and Poems. 69 

deed; it means reliableness, and convinces our hus- 
bands that we can be trusted. But we must keep up 
good courage. 

Here is a poem that I will give you. It came to me 
on hearing a little family jar, which 3'ou know often 
happens; we are not perfect. I^called this poem 



The Skein of Life. 

The skein of life will often snarl, 

It is very hard to wind, 
And if temptation takes the seat, 

O, do not be unkind. 

But call determination 

And let her take the ball; 
With patience at her elbow, 

She will make temptation fall. 

My dear readers, we must realize that we have but 
a short time to overcome those temptations. — 

Only a little while w^e walk with w^eary feet. 
Patiently over the thorny way* 
That leads to the g-olden street. 



Time rolled on, and we had two more little webs to 
weave. We had three sons. From the time I first 
saw my husband I asked my Heavenly Father to bless 



70 LiFK Sketches and Poems. 

him and place his feet upon that rock, that the storms 
of life might not wreck his soul. 

About the time my third son was born my husband 
was building a bridge across the Kennebec river. 
There came a heav}' freshet before the bridge was se- 
cured. It fell. My husband and three of his men 
went down with the bridge. They went down thirty 
feet among sharp boulders. He said he never should 
forget the sensation he had when he was going down 
with that bridge. He was taken up for dead. When 
that news was brought to me my first thought was of 
the immortal part. I thought, at that moment, that it 
would be impossible for me to live through that scene. 
In a short time a messenger came to take me to him. 
I went and nursed him back to life. It was months 
before he was able to leave his room, but he remem- 
bered his prayer and sought his God. and was a true 
Christian the remainder of his life. 

I think that God often takes harsh wavs with his 
children when the}' are willful and will not obey His 
commands. I ask wh}- is it that people are so back- 
ward in giving their hearts to God? Why not receive 
Him? He is the best educator in the world. If we 
will put our trust in Him He will not allow the soul to 
become mean. He forms the heart to be noble and 
hopeful. It is like a sea breeze blowing over a sickly 
land; like sunlight piercing the fog of a long, dark night. 



LiPE Sketches and Poems. 71 

My reader, whoe\'er you may be, it is a terrible thing 
to let conscience begin to grow hard. It is like the 
freezing of a pond. The first film of ice is scarcely 
perceptible. Keep the water stirring and you will pre-' 
vent the frost from hardening it. But once let it film 
over and let it remain quiet, the glaze thickens over 
the surface and at last becomes so firm that a wagon 
might be drawn over the solid ice. So with conscience. 
It films over gradually until at last it seems hard and 
unfeeling. It is not crushed even with ponderous loads 
of iniquity. 

God has put us here to make the world happier and 
better, by our lives and by helping each other. We 
must try and be cheerful, then we shall have love, 
hope and patience. Love evokes love and begets 
loving kindness; love cherishes hopeful, generous 
thoughts of others. It is charitable, gentle and truth- 
ful. 

Che'erfulness is the first thing. It furnishes the best 
soil for the growth of goodness and virtue; it gives 
brightness to the heart; it is the companion of charity, 
the nurse of patience and the mother of w^isdom. 
Kindness does not consist in gifts, but in gentleness 
and generosity of spirit. Many may give their money 
and still withhold their kindness, the latter coming 
from the heart. 

We must be on our guard against small troubles. 



72 Life Sketches and Poems. 

which by encouraoing we are apt to magnih' into 
great ones. In the presence of a great sorrow all pett\' 
troubles disappear. It has been a fault of mine to take 
"some cherished misery to my bosom and pet it there. 
It has sometimes been my glor}', but often in my 
shame I iind the nature of the misery depends on the 
manner in which it is used. 

We can choose to look at the brifjht side of thincrs, 
or at the dark side. My opinion is, the world will be 
to us what w^e choose to make it. For years I fought 
the dark side of life, but God gave me strength to 
overcome. 

]\Iy rule is to rise in the morning and read a chapter 
in God's holy w^ord, then humbly ask Him for strength 
to sustain me through the day; and as often as tempt- 
ations arise I lift my thoughts to God. I lay my bur- 
dens at the foot of the cross and travel on. I find if I 
carry my burdens with me they will soon bear me 
down. 

Meeting evils by anticipation is not the way to o\er- 
come them. When evil comes we must deal with it 
bravely and hopefully. Go forward with hope and 
confidence. This is the advice of an old lady that has 
had a full share of the burdens and heat of life's da}'. 

The last and chiefest blessing is hope ; the most 
common of possessions; even those who have nothing- 
else, have hope. It is the great helper of the present. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 73 

It is also the siislainer and inspirer of great deeds. 
Oh, our Father, give us faith, hope and love. 



The Track of Time. 
JNIy heart beats with great emotion, 

Looking o'er the track of time, 
Out upon the world of progress, 

With God's love it is sublime. 

Travel on, thou great emotion. 

Enter every living breast, 
Fill each heart with sacred goodness, 

That in God we all may rest. 



In 1848 the gold fever was raging in California. My 
father and his brother went'there at that time. The 
Indians were very hostile. Father set up a trading- 
post and his brother took a claim and went to digging. 
At the end of one year the savages became very 
troublesome. One day they attacked my father's post. 
There was a terrible conflict between the whites and 
Indians. Father was disabled and had to return home. 
His brother stayed and fought the savages. He dug 
gold dust to the value of ten thousand dollars. Then 
he started to return home. He put a large amount 
around his person and took the boat at the pier to go 
to the ship that was to bring him home to his wife and 
family. When near the ship a partly of Indians at- 



74 Life Sketches and Poems. 

tacked the boat: one of them raised his tomahawk 
over my uncle's head. In his excitement he jumped 
from the boat and went down in one hundred feet of 
water, never to rise again. The gold on his person 
served to keep him down. Those on board the vessel 
had a great encounter with the Indians, but gained the 
victory. They upset the Indians and most of them 
were drowned. My father stayed at home one j-ear to 
recuperate; then he returned to California, determined 
to make his fortune, whicii he did. 

Trials and sufferings are the tests of married life. 
Thev bring out the real character, and often tend to 
produce the closest union. How \'ivid is my memory 
of what I am about to write. On the evening of the 
27th of March, 185 1, while father was in California, a 
cold winter's night, while we were sleeping sweetly, a 
fire broke out in our house. At that time we had 
three little sons. Our little babe awoke me, after two 
sides of our house iiad fallen to the ground. The wind 
had been blowing in the direction away from our 
sleeping room. Probably that was our safeguard. We 
had to escape through a window, and by the time we 
could get our children to the barn and cover them with 
the damp hay our home and the hard earnings of sev- 
en years la}' in ashes. Then we had to fight the fire 
to keep it from the barns. We had no insurance to 
fall back on; it was a total loss. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 75 

All night the darkness 

Upon our hearts had lain, 
Like shadows on the winter sky, 

Like frost upon a pane. 

Before us roared the rocking pine. 

Below us spread the lake, 
We saw the flashing scythe of fire! 

What speed that monarch makes. 

He sears our foliage with his breath. 

Nothing can stop its ire. 
Oh, what a dreadful sight to see 

Our all on hre. 

Then we had to exert the spirit of gentle heroism 
in difficulties and afflictions. When I found myself I 
was standing upon the cold snow, without shoes or 
stockings, and had been in that situation for more than 
an hour. Then we bade our home adieu, and gath- 
ered together the children, thanking God that we had 
them left to us, and the morning was breaking as we 
entered my husband's brother's home. We had trav- 
eled a half-mile in our night robes, without shoes or 
stockings. 

Ice and snow we there did meet, 
It made for us a very cold street, 
but we found loving and kind friends to s^-mpathize 
with us. My sister-in-law was one of nature's noble- 
women. She had two little sons and one daughter; 
she took charge of the six. who were of about the 



76 LiEE Sketches and Poems. 

same size. I was not able to lift ni}- hands for several 
days. 

It is unquestionably true that the highest qualities of 
woman are displayed in her relationship to others, 
through the medium of her affections. Siie is the 
nurse whom nature has given to all human kind. She 
takes charge of the helpless, and nourishes and cher- 
ishes those she loves. 

My sister knew how to sympathize with me. She 
knew my surroundings; how dear my home was to 
me. It was not so much the money we looked at, as 
it was those little treasures that money could not bu}' 
again: they were childhood treasures, and my wed- 
ding presents; they were very precious to me. 

I was almost despondent, and for several days I did 
not think to pray, but continually looked on the dark 
side of everything, magnifying all of our troubles. 
With bitter tears I repented when my husband's 
mother came to my aid. She was a thoroughly 
Christian mother after the old school of Methodism. 

She said, "M}^ dear daughter, strive to be of good 
courage. Trouble everyone must expect, and we 
must not lay things to heart. Have you told your 
Heavenly Father all about it?'' 

I had to confess that I had not. Then said she, 
'•Why — vvhy, it is time you did." 

In sickness and sorrow she was very brave, and had 



Life Sketches and Poems. 77 

great capacity to deal with the affairs of life, as well 
as presence of mind, which enabled her to act with 
vii^or and effect in moments of emergenc}' . 

Her father settled on the frontier of Maine in 1793. 
They endured a great many hardships. They had to 
go fifty miles to obtain their supplies of food and 
clothing. The country was nothing but a wilderness, 
and it took men and women of great courage to settle 
in those wild woods, where wild beasts were prowling 
around them. 

They were a generation that believed in God. 
They took their bibles into the forest with them, and 
God gave them strength, with the help of sharp axes, 
to fell the giant oak and make beautiful farms for many 
coming generations. 

Like all courageous men, their strength seemed to 
grow in proportion to the difficulties they had to en- 
counter and overcome. I think they enjoyed fife far 
better at that time than we do in this present age. 
They had the courage to be honest, to resist tempta- 
tion, and speak the truth. Nothing can be more cer- 
tain then, that character can only be sustained and 
strengthened by its own energetic action. It was not 
only the men who had to have courage, for the wo- 
men had their part to fill; they were left alone in 
their cabins with the wild beasts howling about them. 
They had to make every yard of cloth required by 



yS Life Sketches and Poems. 

their families. Think, my young readers, when you 
clothe yourselves in fine fabrics, that your great-grand- 
mothers had to spin and weave their cloth by hand; 
they had to prepare the ground and sow the flax to 
make the cloth needed for sheets, pillow-slips and ta- 
ble linen and all summer goods, and the wool had to 
be carded and spun by hand; they had to toil from 
early morn till late at night. They have told me thev 
had to spin by the light from the fireplaces tilled 
with pine knots. What would we think if we had 
that to do? And yet, they were happy. 

It was because they did not know the ways of this 
sinful world; they did not have the temptations of this 
age, and did not have so much to resist. They were 
purely Christian people of the old school. Their 
minds w^ere absorbed in their work, and they had no 
time to think falsely of a neighbor, and that was why 
they were happy. 

I have heard the story told 

That our grandmothers of old, 
Run the loom and wheel, 

And carried the food that the pigs should not 
squeal, 
Carded their wool when they could see best 

And spun their yarn when the sheep were at rest. 

Our grandmothers would go to the swamp, 
And mount upon some monarch stump. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 79 

And pick cedar from the boujrhs 

To make a broom to sweep their house. 

Our grandmothers had classic brows; 

They did not shrink to milk the cows, 
And they thought it ver}- fine 

To have a family of eight or nine. 

Puritan ways were ver}^ meek, 

They did not after pleasure seek; 
They had strong brain and good command, 

And raised the presidents of our land. 

I have sat for hours hearing those grandfathers and 
grandmothers tell of their frontier life. The grand- 
fathers told me how they would do. Several neighbors 
would get together and help each other. They would 
fell the trees in a circle. They would then put their 
sheep and cattle into the circle and guard them from 
the wild beasts while they felled their timber. They 
were a very hardy people and seemed to enjo}- that 
life. They certainly li^•ed to a good old age. I have 
talked with several of them who were nearly one 
hundred years old. They seemed to enjoy telling me 
about their frontier life. It was a great novelty to me. 
I loved to visit those old people who kept up the style 
with their old fashioned fire places. In the evening it 
was beautiful to see the bright maple wood on fire 
casting shadows around their great kitchen. Christi- 
anity begins in those rooms, by those firesides. If it is 



8u Life Sketches and Poems- 

not there it will be hard to hnd that treasure for it is 
certainly where contentment dwells. 



The Mistake of a Lifetime. 

I have a friend who is ver}' anxious to have me write 
up the dark side of her life, and I will gratify her re- 
quest. This piece will be called "The Mistake of a 
Lifetime." This lady whom I am to write about was 
married many years ago. She is living and is as gray 
as myself. What I shall write is true and original. I 
know when her \'oimgest son was a very small boy her 
husband died. Through several losses she was 
seemingh' left poor. She struggled on. trying to do 
all she could for her family, ever looking to her God 
for protection. 

As the waters roll on the shore with incessant throbs 
night and day, and always, not alone wiien storms pre- 
vail, but calms, as well, so it is with a mother's heart 
when berea\'ed of those she loves. There is no grief 
like unto it. ller days are weary; the nights bring 
but little rest; her thoughts are of those who have 
passed awa}-; no one, now, to aid her children, who, 
reckless and thoughtless, ha\'e but few kind words for 
her; no one to take an interest in her welfare. Her 
life had been lavished upon her husband and children 
until her \itality was almost exhausted. When her 
children were wa\ ward and had to be corrected for 



Life Sketches and Poems. 8i 

their wrong doing, for hours she would weep and la- 
ment. She felt so lonely, and needed that sympathy 
she had lost by her husband's death. She felt the 
need of some kind friend in her home, and still fond 
memory pointed her to that tomb. 

There came a day when a friend of her husband's 
came and offered her his hand in marriage. At first 
she thought it would be impossible for anyone to take 
the place of her husband, but her oldest son was very 
much in favor of the gentleman. He promised to 
help bring up the children and do as much for them as 
their father would have done if he had lived, and he 
was amply able to fulfill his promise. 

She said there was a cloud that hung over her, but 
why, she could not tell. He said that it was because 
it was a second marriage, and so she gave her consent 
and they were married. For a short time they ap- 
peared to be happy, but soon she found that his inter- 
est was not with her children, whom she loved far bet- 
ter than any earthly thing. She soon found that cloud 
had not hung over her without a purpose. Before 
one year of their married life had passed he told her 
she must decide to live with him or her children. 
She told him she had promised her dying husband to 
stand by his children until they were old enough to 
take care of themselves, and by the help of her heav- 



82 Life Sketches and Poems. 

enly Father, she should keep her promise. At that 
verdict he left her. 

Then she thought her heart would break — not be- 
cause of her love for him, he was not worthy of her — 
but because her pride must fall; and she had been so 
careful to teach her children the worth of character. 
I saw her battle with that storm. If her children had 
been as they should have been, she would not have felt 
so badly, but they were thoughtless, as all children 
are, and did not know that their mother had refused a 
life of ease and pleasure to be a mother to them. I 
have often thought what those children would have 
been, had she left them in their reckless state. Prob- 
ably they would have gone to the bad. I would have 
chosen my children, in that case, if I had it to do. 

For years he kept writing, trying to break the 
bond of love between herself and children, but she 
had a mother's love, and no earthly thing could tear 
her from her loved ones. She would never speak his 
name; she refused to talk on the subject; her pride 
vsras wounded and her heart was broken. Still she 
struggled on, trying to do her duty by her family and 
those around her. 

The most grievous of the ills of life have been hers 
but she has fought those battles faithfully. In the 
deep furrowed lines upon her venerable face I can see 
she bears the marks of that conflict. Trials known 



Life Sketches and Poems. 83 

onl}' to her God, she has borne incessantly, and now, 
in her old age, her duty done, she is patientl}- awaiting 
her appointed time. She seems more beautiful now 
than e\en in her youth. 

Young man, speak kindly to your mother, and ever 
/be courteously tender of her. But a little time and 
' you shall see her no more forever. Her eyes are dim, 
her form is bent, and her shadow falls grave-ward. 
Others may love you when she has passed away; a 
kind-hearted sister, perhaps, or she whom you choose 
for a partner. She may love 3'ou warmly, passion- 
ately; children may love you fondly, but never, never 
again, while time is yours, shall the love of woman be 
to you as the love of your old trembling mother. 

My friend wished me to write this sketch in behalf 
of mothers. She thinks that those who have children 
should be very careful about marrying the second 
time. The power of the first fascination is soon lost. 
That husband cannot love those children like a father; 
we must not expect it, and by placing that step-father 
between children and mother brings bad effects, that 
hardens the children and they become reckless and are 
soon ruined. 

A happy childhood is the best preparation for a val- 
uable Hfe. Those who can look back, from amid the 
trials and cares of maturity, to a youth full of sunshine 
and joy, have within them not only a fund of pleasant 



84 Life Sketches and Poems. 

memories, but a safeguard against depression and de- 
spair. 

A thoughtful and conscientious mother should not 
overlook this thought — this power of fascination plays 
an important part in the lives of men and women. We 
know that second nuptials are honorable, but consid- 
ering the happiness of the children, it is far better 
that mothers turn their thoughts to their God and their 
love to their children. The children may not realize 
or appreciate this in their childhood, but they will turn 
to their mother in manhood, knowing she has left all 
for them. Then her old age will be happy, and she 
will have no regrets as she goes down the valley of 
time to pass over to the other side. 



His Mother. 
She sat on the porch in the sunshine. 

As I went down the street; 
A woman whose hair was silver, 

But whose face was blossoms sweet. 

Making me think of a garden 

Where, in spite of frosts and snow. 

And of bleak November weather. 
Late fragrant lilies grow. 

I heard a foot step behind me, 
And a sound of a merry laugh. 

And I knew the heart that it came from 
Would be like a comforting staff 



Life Sketches and Poems. 85 

In the time and hour of trouble, 

Hopeful, brave and strong; 
One of the hearts to lean on. 

When we think that things go wrong. 

I turned at the click of the gate-latch, 

And met his manly look; 
A face like his gives me pleasure, 

Like the page of a pleasant book. 

It told of a steadfast purpose, 

A brave and daring will; 
A face with a promise in it. 

That God grant the years fulfill. 

He w^ent up the pathway, singing; 

I saw the woman's eyes 
Grow bright with a wordless welcome. 

As sunshine w^arms the skies. 

"Back again, sweet-heart mother," 

He cried, and bent to kiss 
The loving face that was lifted 

For what some mothers miss. 

That boy will do to depend on. 

I hold that this is true; 
From lads in love with their mother 

Our bravest heroes grew. 

Earth's grandest hearts have been loving hearts, 

Since time and earth began : 
And the boy who kissed his mother 1 

Is every inch a man. 



86 Life Sketches and Poems. 

True Friendship. 

Of all our felicities the most charming is that of 
firm and true friendship. I have a dear friend who 
calls upon me; sweetens all my cares; dispels all my 
sorrows and counsels with me in all extremities. Nay, 
if there were no other comfort in it than the bare ex- 
ercise of so generous a virtue, even for that single 
reason I would not be without it. When I find a 
friend who is tried and true, that friend to me is more 
than silver or gold. I would not sell them for the 
precious gifts of the isles of the sea. 

Some people make a question of which is the great- 
er dehght, the enjoyment of an old friendship, or the 
acquirement of a new one? I think it is in preparing 
a friendship and in the possession of it, as it is with a 
husbandman in sowing and reaping; his dehght is the 
hope of his labor, in the one case, and the fruit of it 
in the other. My conversation lies among my books, 
but I love to meet my friends, even if I have not 
health or time to return their calls. 

Dear friend Fannia, 
Your arbutus was fine. 

If it did come so far, 
O'er the fast Soo line. 

It cheered the heart 
Of one who is old: 

That is far better 
Than silver or gold. 



LifE Sketches and Poems. 87 

Winifred's Birthday. 

Early one summer morning, 

When the dew was on the grass, 

There arose a great commotion 
About a little lass. 

She brought her apron full of love 

And strewed it all around, 
Till every person in the house 

Into the link was bound. 

We thought she came to stay awhile. 

She seemed so much at home, 
We dressed her up in long clothes. 

And kept her very warm. 

Brighter than the glorious sunrise. 
That delights this earthly clime. 

Through the splendor of its dawning, 
Breaking o'er the hills of time 

Is the richness of the radiance 

Of that land beyond the sun, 
Where the noble have their country 

When their work of life is done. 



Lilies to a Friend. 

You may gather up the sunbeams 

That lie around your path, 
To lill your heart with love and joy. 
To cultivate that little plant 
Your darling little boy. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 

There is nothing so innocent, 

So lovely, sweet and mild, 
As the budding thought, the untrained soul. 

Of a tender httle child. 

I hope you will find sweet comfort 

In the blessings of the day. 
With careful hand removing 

All that's sin from out his way. 



Spring. 

The hills and valleys are full of mirth; 

Spring has come, and given birth 
To foliage and flowers to cover the earth. 

The birds have returned from their sunny clime. 
Their warble is heard again in the pine; 

Nature is busy with its birds and bees, 
And beautiful arbutus under the trees. . 



In 1853 we came west. We left the pier at Rock- 
land, Maine, on the old Charter Oak, at five p. m., and 
were due at Boston at four a. m. It was in the month 
of November, a dark and lowery evening. We had not 
gone far when a storm arose. The boat had the rep- 
utation of being unsafe. All night she labored so 
heavily that we all expected to be lost before morning. 
The captain said he had run the boat ten years and 
he had never experienced a storm like that before. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 89 

The state-rooms were engaged when we took the 
boat, so we had to take the lady's cabin. There was 
a lady on board who had a little daughter, six years of 
age. Her mother had robed her for the night, and 
the little one, amid the confusion, knelt down and 
clasping her little hands, raised her eyes toward heav- 
en and prayed to her heavenly Father for the safety 
of the boat and all on board. I could not help refer- 
ing to the twenty-first chapter of St. Matthew and 
sixteenth verse, where it says, "Jesus said unto them, 
have ye never read, 'Out of the mouth of babes and 
sucklings thou hast perfected praise.' " 

I believe that heaven is largely made up of little 
children; sweet buds that have never bloomed and 
which Death has plucked from a mother's bosom to 
lay on his own cold breast, just as they were expand- 
ing, flower-like, and opening their beauties in the bud- 
ding and spring of life. "Of such is the kingdom of 
Heaven." 

My father had returned from California. He was 
having his gold mmted at Philadelphia, and we were 
to meet him in Boston. The boat did not arrive till 
late in the afternoon, and was long overdue. The re- 
port had spread that the Charter Oak was lost. All 
that was loving and dear to my father was on that 
boat. He had been in the observatory most of the 
day, and when he saw the old Charter Oak coming up 



go Life Sketches and Poems. 

to the pier his heart was tilled with joy. It did not 
take him long to meet those whom he loved. We all 
went to a hotel, where we stayed several days and 
enjoyed om^selves to the utmost. 

Oh, what a meeting at that pier! Human nature 
was displayed in its brightest form; people meeting 
friends whom they feared they would never meet 
again. The anxious multitude stood on the pier watch- 
ing every person who stepped from the boat, and 
when they found their friends, it wpuld make your 
eyes fill with tears. There was an old lady — no doubt 
she was a widow — waiting for her son. How care- 
worn she looked! There was great joy when she met 
her boy. We felt to thank our heavenly Father that 
we were safe. 

When traveling with an ever-shifting train. 

Amid the sound of steps that beat. 

Some, bright with thoughtless smiles. 

And some where secret tears have left their trace. 

One bright November morning, two families, which 
numbered eleven, left Boston for the west. Travel- 
ing by rail in those days was slow work and full of 
exciting adventures. One could not enter a depot 
without seeing, posted on the walls, "Beware of pick- 
pockets." We had one adventure in our five days' 
route; we had bought eleven tickets to Chicago, (for 
the two families) and one morning as the daylight was 



Life Sketches and Poems. gi 

appearing the conductor came into our coach and told 
us we must go into the rear coach, as ours would be 
set out at the first station. It was very dark, and as 
we came out upon the platform several men pressed 
about us and would not let us pass for some time. 

In the morning my husband discovered the loss of 
his pocket-book, which contained the eleven tickets 
and loose change to the amount of twenty-five dollars. 
Father had a purse containing four hundred and fifty 
dollars in gold, that he was carrying in his breast- 
pocket; this, too, was gone. He said this was his 
first loss by robbery. 

A great many of the passengers were robbed of all 
the money they had about their persons. One old 
gentleman had his ticket and his last penny taken. 
He was going west to pass the remainder of his life 
with his daughter. We made up a purse for him and 
bought him a ticket and sent him on his way a hap- 
pier man. 

When we arrived in Buffalo the coach had been set 
out, but we knew by the conductor's appearance that 
he was implicated in the affair. In Buffalo we bought 
our tickets by way of the lakes, and by that robbery 
our lives were saved. That train went by the wa}^ 
of Suspension Bridge and came in collision with a 
gravel train. The engineer, conductor and most of 
the passengers were killed. Father often told us we 



92 Life Sketches and Poems. 

must not complain of the loss but thank God our lives 
were spared. 

When I am traveling I often think it does not mat- 
ter whether we are ticketed over Niagara or the Riv- 
er of Death, jf we have our trunks packed with 
faith, hope and love, and a receipt for the forgiveness 
of our sins. I am nearing that last mentioned river. 
I can look back upon a great many narrow escapes 
when my trunk was not packed to give me satisfac- 
tion. Our heavenly Father is very kind to spare us 
when we have no ticket to show. 

My life to me is like a station 

Where all alone a trav'ler stands, 

And I, like he who stands and listens. 
Amid the twilight chill and gloom, 

To hear approaching in the distance 
The train for home. 



In 1855 my father went south and settled in the 
southern part of Missouri, thinking it would become a 
free state. He bought large tracts of land and built 
a fine home. He was a strong Union man and not 
afraid to speak his sentiments. When the war broke 
out he remained true to the Stars and Stripes. In '62 
a band of guerrillas, jayhawkers and bushwhackers 
roamed up and down the country, destroying a vast 
amount of property and carr3'ing on a horrible war- 
fare. Father was shot down in his field and his build- 



Life Sketches and Poems. 93 

ings destroyed by fire. It caused my mother's death; 
she lived but a few months to mourn her loss. 

Pen cannot describe the anguish I have experienced 
bv that war. It has cost us some of our best and no- 
blest blood. I can say I have lost all that was dear to 
me, excepting four sons, and one of those has since 
passed the portals. The lives that were lost in de- 
fence of country is the nation's gain, and we thank 
our God that the bands of slavery are broken. God 
never intended that men should become slaves to each 
other. 

I have felt my great loss of husband, parents and 
brothers, severely, and it seems to me that had it not 
been for slaverv I might have had them with me for 
years, if not up to the present time. It is a great self- 
denial to not speak, and I know it is necessary for our 
personal happiness to exercise control over one's words 
as well as acts, for there are words that strike even 
harder than blows. Heaven keep us from the destroy- 
ing power of words. There are words the point of 
which stings the heart through the course of a whole 
life-time. There are times and occasions when the 
expression of indignation is not only justifiable but 
necessary. We are bound to be indignant at false- 
hood, selfishness and cruelty. That was why the war 
had to come. It was inevitable. Slavery had to be 
put down. 



94 Life Sketches and Poems. 

We thank our Father in heaven 
For Lincoln's great command, 

To break the bands of slavery. 
And make us a free land. 

The people are all equalized; 

They are upon a par; 
We may thank that proclamation 

For our free nation's stars. 



Affliction Makes Friendship. 

When the news came flashing over the wires that 
Fort Sumpter was bombarded by the South, a great 
excitement arose, and men ever3'where were shaking 
hands with each other; they could not hear enough; 
they came forward by the thousands. It was their 
hatred of slavery that brought out their lo^■e for their 
nation and each other. It must be admitted that the 
war tried men's characters more severely than any- 
thing that ever came upon them. It put them to the 
severest tests of honesty, self-denial, justice and truth- 
fulness, and our noble men who passed through those 
trials and came out unstained are worthy of great 
honor as soldiers who have proved their courage 
amidst the fire and perils of battle, to the credit of 
their country, and I think it is greatly in our power to 
promote their comfort and advancement. 

Unwearied attention to our duty, complacent, re- 



Life Sketches and Poems. 



95 



spectful behavior not only to our superiors, but to 
e\erybody, will insure us a reward that will surely 
come. 

When the war broke out we were residing a few 
miles from Chicago. When we Hved in Maine my 
husband was a colonel in the militia and so was well 
versed in tactics, and was employed to drill two com- 
panies which he soon presented in Chicago, one of 
which chose him captain. My heart was broken by 
the prospect of his going to the war. I cannot say 
that I was very patriotic at that time. I knew that he 
could not be compelled to go for he had lost three 
fingers from one hand and I took advantage of that. 

We had four sons, and they were small, and needed 
a father's care as well as mine, and I thought it was 
impossible for me to take care of those little children, 
with my health so poor and so much depending 
upon me. If my husband went I knew I would be 
left entirely alone, for all my people were in the south, 
in the midst of the rebellion. I knew that duty called 
him to the front to fight for our rights, but I was very 
selfish. He said, "Do not fret; I will not go at pres- 
ent, but I believe, I don't know why, that my bones 
will bleach on southern soil." When he spoke those 
words a strong presentiment came over me also. 

In 1863 we went to Oshkosh, Wisconsin. Soon af- 
ter we were settled there came a call for engineers for 



96 Life Sketches and Poems. 

government service. I thought there would be but 
little danger as he would not have to go into battle, 
not once thinking that the noxious inhalations from 
those marshy districts would bring a fever upon him. 
He had been in Nashville but a few months when, one 
morning, there came a telegram saying my husband 
was in Nashville, on College Hill, in the quartermas- 
ter's department, very sick, and wished me to come 
immediately. That evening at 7 p. m. I left my home 
and family in care of a housekeeper, not knowing 
that I should ever see my family again, but feeling 
that my duty was by my sick husband's bedside. I 
trusted that my Heavenly Father would take care of 
those whom I had left, and that He would help me to 
do m}^ duty to my husband and children. I believe 
that God sent His spirit, borne upon the wings of the 
wind that evening, to strengthen me to perform my duty. 
He is revealed to us through His word; His facts are 
lessons. Amid the wildest national confusion God 
makes himself known to us by inward intuition, and, 
above all, by the voice of conscience. I know that God 
helped me in those relative duties that I had to per- 
form. 

God's word I know will strengthen us, 

Make our hearts good and true; 
The battle to the brave is given, 

If they will fight it through. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 97 

It was perilous times when I went to Nashville. I 
was five days on the train between Oshkosh and Louis- 
ville. Hood's army of 40,000 men was pressing their 
way to Nashville. I had letters of introduction to the 
proprietor of the National Hotel, as Col. Eddy thought 
it to be the safest place for a lone lady. 

We arrived in Louisville in the early evening, and 
everything was in confusion : the bushwhackers 
had torn down the wires between Nashville and 
Louisville and both cities were under martial law. I 
could not enter Nashville until I went before a provost 
marshal and made oath that I was loyal to my country, 
and what my business would be when I arrived in that 
city. I had to have a pass from the provost marshal 
of Nashville before I could go through the lines, and 
I had to wait four days before 1 could get it. It was a 
long four days to me, not knowing how I should find 
my sick husband, and with so much excitement around 
me. I did not occupy much of the time in sleeping 
or eating, and only one night of the four did I get any 
rest. There were one hundred and thirty-seven oth- 
ers waiting for passes; among them was a northern 
lad}' who was going to Chattanooga to her husband, 
who had lost a leg in that battle. One morning I met 
her; she called me aside and told me she had some- 
thing to say to me. There was an old prowess that 
liad been stopping there three weeks, trying to get a 



gS Life Sketches and Poems. 

pass to Chattanooga, which was her home. The 
Unions had taken her son as a rebel sp}-, and he was 
in Washington, in safe keeping, and she had been 
there to visit him. The lady who came to see me did 
not know these circumstances, and this old prowess 
took advantage of her ignorance, and told her that if 
she would say she had an assistant going through, 
and would take her along as that assistant, she would 
give her one hundred dollars and pay her fare to 
Chattanooga. 

This old prowess knew she could pass on that lad}'s 
ticket. That lady was not a very smart woman; you 
could see it in her appearance. She was poor, and 
had been brought up in the wilds of Michigan, and it 
appeared that she did not know what it was to take 
an oath. She had given her oath to that effect, and 
was rooming wilh that old prowess when she came to 
■me that morning. She said "that old lady," as she 
called her, took a package from her bosom and said 
she had some nuts for the Yankees to crack when she 
got to Chattanooga. That frightened ihe northern 
lady, and she asked me what she had better do? 

I said to her that if she allowed that woman to go 
with her they would both be put in prison before they 
got to Chattanooga. She commenced to weep, say- 
ing, "What shall I do?" 

I told her I would go with her to thtC proNOSt mar- 



Life Sketches and Poems. 99 

shal's office, and she must confess what she had done. 
She was very unwilling to go, but I told her that if 
she would not go with me I should go alone. We 
went together, and the marshal was very stern with 
her. He told her she must be insane, or she never 
would have done that, but for her husband's sake he 
would release her and let her pass. 

At four o'clock that afternoon our passes came, and 
we took the train for Nashville, in charge of a mili- 
tary conductor. The old prowess took the train with 
us. I thought my trouble was of no account. Wt 
had not gone far when the conductor came to me and 
asked me to point out the person of whom I had com- 
plained to the provost marshal. I pointed her out to 
him, and before we arrived in Nashville a squad of 
soldiers came in and took her awa}'. I understood 
she w^as imprisoned as a sp}'. She was a rich plant- 
er's wife, and their home was in Chattanooga. That 
son was their only child. 

I found my iiusband Acr}^ sick; he did not know 
me. I cannot describe my feelings. I was in a 
strange land, so far awa}' from home, and m}- dearest 
friend on earth given o\'er to die. 

As there are no blessings which ma}- not be per- 
verted into evil, so there are no trials that may not be 
converted into blessings. All depends upon the man- 

LofC. 



loo Life Sketches and Poems. 

ner in which we profit by them; otherwise perfect hap- 
piness is not to be looked for in this world. 

I arrived in Nashville December 6th, and the battle 
between Hood and Thomas came off the 15th of that 
month. I cannot describe the anxiety I passed through 
while that battle was raging, not knowing which way 
it would turn. We knew if we fell into the hands of 
the southern people we should fare very hard, for they 
were very hardhearted towards "the cold north," as 
they called us. I think before that battle was at an 
end they realized that the north was too warm for 
them. 

Thomas, the noble hero, fell upon Hood with great 
slaughter. The sun rose high and sunk, still the bat- 
tle raged through that wild December day. The 
clash and din resounded in the air and in the red sun- 
set and in the white moonlight heaps of dead men lay 
strewn all over the ground, but the tide of battle 
turned in Thomas' favor. 

Hood suffered a complete overthrow, losing 55 
guns, 4,500 prisoners, besides many thousand killed 
and wounded. You mav be assured it was a great 
relief to me to see them leave the city. After the 
army left and it became quiet, my husband's reason 
returned, and he knew me once more. How happy 
I was. How I nursed him night and day and tried to 
bring him back to life and health, but it was of no use, 



Life Sketches and Poems. ioi 

the Destroyer had taken the vital part away and he 
had to go; my pra3'ers and tears could not give him 
back to me, but I thank my Heavenly Father that He 
was so kind to me in sparing his Hfe that I might see 
him once more and nurse him in his last sickness, but 
I had that hour to meet as well as others. 

Thy life and mine, how hard it is to part. With 
anguish I bow before thy cot and with a stricken heart 
implore thee. Thy life will soon be beyond the vale, 
and mine, poor being which must ghde through ways 
familiar to us both 'till death shall lead me to thy side. 

When I saw my husband's spirit depart, I knew 
that he had left me alone in a strange land, with no 
one that I could call my friend, although everyone 
was very kind to me. 



The Garden of Earth. 

In the garden of Earth I wander 

Mid weed and thorn. 
My garden lieth yonder 

Beyond the bourne. 

In my dreams I see my garden, 

Beautiful and fair, 
Where no blossom fades or closes 

In the golden air. 

No breath of autumn comes thither, 
Or frost winds chill ; 



Life Sketches and Poems. 

My buds no worm may wither, 
No blight may kill. 

There, in the leafy hush of peace eternal, 

Dear husband waits for me, 
'Till my appointed tasks are over 

That God hath allotted me, 
Then, with jo}- and gladness 

I will come to thee. 



•My husband was well cared for, and great respect 
was shown him. A colonel in the army often visited 
him. He said to me, "Why is your husband here in 
this capacity; he should have had some higher posi- 
tion." I told him what I have written, that he was 
chosen captain, and I was the cause of his not going. 
He looked at me very sternly, and said, "Madam, it is 
no more than right that you should suffer." I felt it 
was a hard saying, but came home to my heart. It 
was true, and that it was my selfishness that brought 
him where he was. If I was called to do that again, 
I would never try to overcome the right. 

My great desire was to bring him home, but it was 
impossible at that time. Bands of guerrillas were de- 
stroying railroads, and it was almost impossible to 
travel with safety. I knew I had left nothing but the 
house of clay. 

I knew his spirit would speed away to the shore, 
Where the boatman was ready to muffle the oar; 



Life Sketches and Poems. 103 

That they'll not hear the break 
Of the waves on the shore. 

The winds may blow and the breakers may roar, 
But the boatman will carry him safe to that shore; 

There in the realms of endless bliss, 
He will have a home where Jesus is. 

Heft the sunny south the loth day of March, 1865. 
The doctors thought that I had better take the even- 
ing train, as that made better connections, but I felt 
that I could not stay another day. All that I loved 
there lay buried in the cold ground. My husband's 
prophecy had come to pass, and his bones must bleach 
on a southern soil, while I passed my lonely days in 
the cold north. 

I bid that mound of earth adieu, never to see it 
again in this world. God knows at that moment that 
earth was blotted out, and I thought what shall thy 
future be. Oh, Lord, I wait m wonder to see. 

The train that I took had a soldiers' train attached. 
We had crossed a i-iver and were going into a tunnel 
when a gang of desperadoes came dashing recklessly 
down the hill, but when they saw the soldiers they left 
without stopping to bid us good bye. 

When we arrived in Indianapolis, the report came 
that the night train was destroyed, but it was contra- 
dicted. They had a hard encounter with the guerril- 
las, but they left them without loss of life. Our of- 



I04 Life Sketches and Poems. 

ficers had something to contend with besides the re- 
bellious south. They had those who were working 
against us who pretended to be unionists. Those 
states that were divided against each other were hard- 
er to control than those that came out in bold defiance. 

On a cold evening, the 17th of March, I arrived 
home to my family. I had heard from them but once 
since I left home. It was almost impossible to get 
mail unless you was connected with the army. My 
children expected their father would come home with 
me. They dearly loved him. I knew what I would 
have to pass through before I entered the house. It 
was a sad night. No one slept in that house that long 
night. With all my distress, I felt that I must help 
my children to bear their loss. I knew I must make 
the moral atmosphere in which they lived, and by 
which their minds and souls are nourished, as their 
bodies are, by the atmosphere they breathe. I had 
been their cherisher in infancy, their instructor in 
childhood, and I asked my Heavenly Father that I 
might be their guide and counselor in their youth. 

I kept them in school, and at the same time taught 
them that they must be self reliant and self dependent, 
and I tried to be gentle, patient, and self denying, 
ever asking my Hea\^enly Father for help, which I 
daily received. It was a lonesome life. I tried hard 
to overcome my feelings, but it would come to me, 



Life Sketches and Poems. 105 

you are left alone to tread the desert path through 
30ur whole life. I had a dread of being left a widow. 
A stranefe loneliness would come over me when I 
would stop to give it a thought. 

There were two hospitals on College Hill, Nos. i 
and 2. The militar}- hospitals were on the side of the 
hill. Government clerks and officials occupied i and 
2. My husband was in hospital No. i. The roll 
called for one hundred and thirty in our ward. It was 
a very lonesome winter to me, although the sunny 
south was in its bloom. The ravage of war had done 
its work. 

I remember one young man who was a clerk in the 
quartermaster's department. He was very tine look- 
incr. He had a noble countenance. He was on the 
sick list with congestive chills. He had already had 
two, and that day would be the third. The surgeon in 
charge came around and said, '' Madam, you notice 
number thirty-three, and see how buoyant he appears. 
Not far from four o'clock this afternoon his spirit will 
be in some other land." They had telegraphed to his 
people, and were expecting them on each train. He 
was well connected, and very much liked in the de- 
partment. There were fourteen doctors around Col- 
lege Hill. They had all prepared to try and save him 
if it were possible. But the hour came, and with it 
the chill. Nothino- could save him. He was gone in 



io6 Life Sketches and Poems. 

a few moments. One hour after he was dead his par- 
ents came. Oh. the anguish of that mother over her 
loved son. I often saw similar distress hy those who 
came to see their loved ones that death had taken to 
his own cold bosom. 

One year had passed, and Oh, how I missed that 
husband and father coming in with a heart full of love. 
It pushed all the dark shadows out. There was no 
chance for them to lurk in the corners. For one year 
there had been a vacant chair, an empty home, and a 
grave away in the sunny south. 

The long, long days have crept like years. 
The sunlight has been dimmed with doubts and 
tears. 

The Bible tells us there are tears in heaven, for it 
says that God shall wipe all tears from our eyes. I 
know that God will watch over us while we are ab- 
sent from each other. ' Do we comprehend what a 
beautiful thing it is for the pure in heart to die? To 
be ushered into a reign of such sublime possibilities 
of drawing near in heart, mind and soul to our heav- 
enly Father? It would be like passing out of the 
gloomy winter into the beautiful summer with all its 
brightness. 

Come, my dear friend, from that far-away shore, 
Float some sweet song the waters o'er; 

Our faith confirm, our fears dispel, 

With that sweet voice we loved so well. 



LuE Sketches and Poems. 107 

In 1866 T bought a home in Oshkosh, Wis., where 
we resided for twenty years. I kept my boys in 
school until they were old enough to learn a trade. 
They loved machinery. After I bought my home my 
sons built a small shop on the back of the lot. I stud- 
ied their nature, and found it kept them from playing 
on the streets. 

My second son at the age of twelve years made 
patterns for a small engine. He had got into the good 
graces of the foundrymen, and they cast his engine 
for him. The railroad foreman became interested in 
the little engine, and they allowed him to finish it up 
in the shop. Then came the time when they would 
rush home from school to their little engine, to see 
what power they could get out of it. We were not 
rich, and they would often be at a loss to know how 
they could obtain boilers, bells and whistles, to attach to 
their little engine. I remember of one instance of 
hearing an extra shrill whistle. I went out to see if 
they had found a new model. To my surprise, there 
was the handle of my new tin dipper attached to their 
engine. When I upbraided them they said they would 
saw my wood, and that would pay for all the dippers 
I would need. I was continually in fear. The}' were 
always trying experiments, and I did not know what 
instant they might be killed. I knew they must be 
self-made. I had nothing to put into their pockets, 



io8 LiFK Sketches and Poems. 

and every hour that they were in that little shop it was 
one the less on the street. 

My great trouble was that my lot was lined with 
boys, and even engineers came to see the wonder. INIy 
boys had but little time for play. Their school and 
shop kept them busy, and my trouble became light to 
me, "Since love had thus mv efforts crowned, to ofuide 
their steps aright," and I could see that they were the 
material of which men are to be made for the comino; 
generation. But it was still hard for me. If I had 
been placed in a ten-acre lot near the bounds of the 
city, instead of having a corner lot in the heart of the 
cit}', I should have been more at my ease. When the 
whistles blew and loud laughter ensued, I felt it must 
be very annoying to my neighbors. But they were 
very kind to me, knowing that I had all I could man- 
age. 

I had my husband's business to look after. He had 
loaned two thousand dollars to a man by the name of 
Ek Whitcomb, of Vermont, and had taken a mortfrage 
deed on a farm in Illinois. 

After buying our home in Oshkosh, I expected to 
have that money with which to educate my sons and 
give them trades, but when my lawyer went to collect 
the amount, with interest, he was surprised to find the 
farm in Whitcomb brother's name. The lawyer said 
if I would let him have the case, he would put him 



Life Sketches and Poems. 109 

behind the bars, but I did not have money to spend in 
huvsuits, and I had to lose every cent of it. That 
was a great disappointment to me. I had promised 
my dying husband that I would do as near right by 
our children as God would dictate me to do. 

I armed myself for the battle of life, making a prom- 
ise, with God's help I would do as much for them as 
that two thousand dollars would have done. I knew 
I could do no more for my husband, and my love went 
out to our children. I prayed for resolution and cour- 
age to render me self-reliant, that I might be more 
useful to my family. I had always relied on my hus- 
band's abiHty to do business, not once thinking I should 
ever have to take his place. 

There is nothing attractive in timidity; nothing en- 
viable in fear. Courage is graceful and dignified; 
while fear, in any form, is mean and repulsive; yet 
the utmost tenderness and gentleness is consistent with 
courage. 

There is but one way to look at fate, whether it be 
blessings or afflictions. To behave with dignity under 
both, we must not lose heart, or it will be worse for 
ourselves and for those we love. If we trust in God 
for protection He will give us self-control that means 
virtue. 

It is a dark, November sky. 

The darkness falls, the wind is high, 



no Life Sketches and Poems. 

The thunders roar, the lightnings flash, 
I hear the great round rain drops dash. 

The storm ma}- rage with fury wild; 

With Thee, Oh Father, I'll trust each child, 
But future days are drawing near, 

They'll s:o from this warm shelter here. 

The rain will fall, and the cold winds blow; 

I'll sit alone and lontj to know 
Will they have shelter then secure 

Where hearts are waiting strong and pure. 

God knows it all. His will is best. 

I'll shield them now, and leave the rest. 
He even looks after the sparrow's nests; 

In His great care I know they'll rest. 

My husband was very anxious that I should go to 
Maine and see his aged mother. He wished me not 
to write, but break the sad tidings of his death to her 
myself. The homestead was on the banks of the 
Sandy river, above Kennebec. It was with a heart 
full of sorrow that I traveled over those hills to that 
dear old homestead. Twenty years before, not far 
from that date I had traveled that road a happy bride. 
Now I was going back a lonely widow. When dear 
old mother met me and saw me in widow's weeds, she 
did not have to be told. I expected the trouble would 
overcome her, but she had great Christian fortitude. 
She was nerved with a stron<r will that never jrave 



Life Sketches and Poems. hi 

way. Although eight3^-three years old the month 
that I visited her, she was then ahle to look after her 
household, and was always very prompt in all her 
ways of life. 

In the midst of the wild scenes that checkered the 
frontier settlers' lives, Mrs. Haines was left a widow with 
the burden of a numerous famil}-. She had three sons 
and seven daughters, and made ample provision for 
their future care and education. To bring up a large 
family of children under the most favorable circum- 
stances is a great work, and in this case it rises into 
sublimity, for there is no finer instance of heroism 
than a mother laboring for that end alone. 

My husband was the youngest son of the family, 
and was very young when his father died. When my 
husband took me home to see his mother, she clasped 
me in her arms and called me her daughter. I never 
saw any change in her after that time. We lo\ed 
each other. I had left my home and my dear mother, 
and I was happy to think I had some one to take her 
place. It was with deep emotion that I entered that 
old home, feeling I was alone like herself. 

I cannot describe the anguish we passed through 
that night. Since I last saw her I had lost husband, 
father, mother, and one brother. We could truly 
mourn together. I loved her better after the death of 
my husband than I ever did before. I can see her 



112 Life Sketches and Poems. 

now as I saw her then, in her old arm chair. She had 
borne the noontide toil, and now at eventide, with 
tired, folded hands, she was waiting for the summons 
which should open unto her a morning of eternal day. 
I staid with her a few weeks, but they were full 
,of memories of the past. They were very un- 
happy weeks to me. It made my heart ache to leave 
her, but my duty called me back to my loved ones, 
and I left her never to meet her again till we meet in 
that beautiful land. She lived to the age of ninety- 
three and died with not a day's sickness. It is very 
plain to be seen that as we live, so shall we die. Is 
it not worth living for to pass away in peace, and be 
remembered b}' those whom we love ? 



Gliding Down. 
While gliding down the hill of time 

How we forget, 
And before the hour of noon 

We find our sun has set. 

That dear old mother said to me, 
I have traveled down that hill. 

I am nearing my four score and ten: 

I am sorry on my friends I must depend. 

I am traveling quietly. 

Soon to be here no more. 
In my imagination 

I hear that river roar. 



Lite Sketches and Poems. 113 

My Father sent a message. 

By that I will abide 
Until the boatman's ready 

To bear me o'er that tide. 



I returned home again to m}^ family who needed 
my care, and went to work. My motto was work. 
No one who has read the scriptures can say that it 
does not teach us to work. The first words that fell 
from Christ's lips on earth, so far as we have them on 
record, were. '• Wist ye not that I must be about 
my Father's business." I love to read those sayings. 
It has strengthened me to do my duty by my family 
and friends. It has taught me that I must not be 
selfish. 

How happy a parent is to return to their family, 
when they know their children are buoyed up by the 
inward hopefulness of meeting ihose they love above 
all others. While their minds are young and tender 
there is nothing that will fill their hearts with consola- 
tion like a mother's love. In their trials he gives them 
promises of comfort and cheer. There is a singular 
sweetness in her voice as she tries to strengthen and 
help them through the struggles of life. To those 
dear ones it is like an open glade in a dark forest, 
where the sun lies on warm banks, the father of many 
flowers. 



114 Life Sketches and Poems. 

And then again we owe them gratitude for the dark 
hours which their presence has brightened: for the 
helplessness and dependence which has won us from 
ourselves; and for those kisses on cheeks wet with 
tears, and upon brows that had it not been for those 
caressings would have furrowed into frowns. 

I think there are but ver}' few who do not feel 
themselves indebted to the influences of their children 
who cluster around them. They are the love and 
light of home. Who does not feel a sweet consola- 
tion, when tired with the toil of the da}', to sit down 
and press a pure little babe to their bosom? God has 
refreshed you, and you feel patient and self-devoted. 
Then, no doubt, you are moulding the destin}' of 
nations. Our noble heroes lay on their mother's breasts, 
xind we must do our best. 



My Winding Stairs. 
At the top of my stairs, where I go down. 

The}' are very narrow and wind around. 
When it is dark I step with care; 

Old age is apt to fall into a snare. 

As with the stairs, so with youth ; 

They are apt to be narrow and wind around, 
Seeking for something 

That cannot be found. 

If they will take the lamp of truth. 
Trim it well while in their youth. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 115 

The stairs may be narrow, but they won't go far, 
'Til thev find their bright and guiding star. 

If they put their trust in her bright hght, 

She will lead them down in the darkest night; 

At the foot of those stairs, if you turn to the right, 
Truth will guide you through with her bright 
lip-ht. 



When I returned home from the old homestead, I 
came bv the way of Massachusetts and engaged a 
place in the shops for m}- sons to learn their trades. 
My oldest son had married very young, so I had but 
three to learn trades, and the youngest was still in 
school. The appointed time came that they should 
go. I was not ready to leave home at that time. I 
got two of them ready and sent them away. My 
heart was heavy. It was the first of their leaving 
home, but the time was not far distant when I t-hould 
follow them. It was a bright September morning, 
cool and bracing, but the atmosphere could not brace 
me up through that day. 

They arrived all right and commenced work, but 
were very unhapp\' without mother. I closed up my 
business as soon as possible and followed them. I 
knew we could not have any comfort till we could 
have a little home. I struggled very hard to find 
rooms and get them readv, that we might be together. 



ii6 Life Sketches and Poems. 

The time came and we had the home. We could say 
"Sweet home." It was fitted up comfortably, and we 
were happy. It was no trouble to keep my sons at 
their work, for they loved machinery. The superin- 
tendent of machinery would often encourage me, sa}'- 
ing I would have no trouble, they would make their, 
record. 

Time passed on. The second son got through and 
had a position; the third was still at his trade, and the 
youngest at school. Early one morning a telegram 
came rushing over the wires, telling me that death had 
visited my son's family. His wife, his bosom friend, 
lay lifeless in his house. That destroyer, consumption, 
had done its last work. My son was left with two 
little babes, one seventeen months old, and the other 
three weeks old. Her last words were, "Mother, 
come and take care of my little babes." I knew it 
was my duty to go. Two of my sons were capable 
of taking care of themselves, and the third I could 
take with me and put him to school in Oshkosh. 

In one week after I heard the news we were on our 
way to the west, where we arrived on a dark Novem- 
ber night. The gloom was not only on the outside, 
but it had entered that home, and a lovely mother had 
been put under the cold clods 'of the valley. The 
babe, three weeks old, had consumption, which he had 
taken from his mother. He was a beautiful little boy. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 117 

but lived to be only one year old. The little one was 
never strong, and could not hold up his head. At the 
end of one 3'ear we laid him in a little mound by the 
side of his mother. I felt that she took him out of 
my arms. 

Sleep on sweet babe, and take thy rest; 
God has called thee. He knows best. 

Now the time came for my youngest son to learn 
his trade, which he was bound to have. We took the 
oldest babe, a fine little bo}^, and went back to Massa- 
chusetts. Then we had to fit up a home again. 

My son went to work with a wdll. We had our 
dear little boy. He was the light and comfort of our 
home, and never caused me any trouble. He did not 
appear like an earthly child, and was not long des- 
tined for this world. At eight years of age he was 
sent for. Oh, how hard it was for me to let cold 
death take my beautiful boy. 

A little spirit speeding through the night; 
A little home grown lonely, dark and chill; 

A sad heart groping for the light; 
A little mound beneath the hill, 
Tell us we must bow to God's holy will. 

The stream of tears shall never cease to flow, 
As long as life's sun shall shine on us below. 
And many angels have been sent from God 
To count the tear drops wept upon life's road. 



ii8 Lii-E Sketches and Poems. 

But of all the tears, the least defiled 

Are when a mother prays beside her child; 

Our Lord, He henrs her groans and cries. 

And sends His spirit from the skies. 

I can look very far back on my past life and see 
that whatever it might be. if only a flower, if I loved 
it, it was soon taken from me; and later, I think of 
the h3'mn " What e'er that idol be, help me to tear it 
from Thy throne, and worship only Thee." 

Time passed on; I was once more settled down at 
home in Oshkosh. About that time my third son 
married. We were very happy and a few years flew 
past like arrows from a bow. Old Father Time waits 
for no man, and for one day of happiness we ijiust 
have several of sorrow\ 

One cold night in December sad news came rush- 
ing home to my heart. My oldest son, the father of 
those dear little children that God had called away 
from me, and that I had laid away under the cold clods 
of the valley, had passed over that river, away from 
home and friends, with no mother to smooth that pil- 
low or kiss that burning brow. I thought I had passed 
through all I could bear, but God strengthens us to bear 
our burdens if we put our trust in Him. It was a 
great consolation to think, that without a doubt he 
had passed over to the other side to meet those loved 
ones, his wife and children. They were a happv fam- 



Life Sketches and Poems. iig 

il\' while here on eartli, \vh\' not love each other 
in that beautiful land beyond the sun, where Christ 
himself doth rule? Not one day passes by that I do 
not imagine I see my little buds expanding in that 
school of eternal life. 

There are not many earthly gardens where death 
has not left his footprints, when he came to steal away 
some of our sweetest flow^ers, and of that dear son's 
family we have laid the last of them in the dust. But 
we know^ Christ doth rule. He has borne the heat 
and burden of the cross for our sins. How plain it looks 
to me; we are put here with all our troubles and sor- 
rows, to be more ready to enjoy that beautiful land. 
Do you ever stop to think that there wall be no more 
death there; no sickness, no parting with those we 
love. Our Lord said He had many mansions, and He 
would go and prepare one, that we might be with Him. 
And if we will live up to the golden rule, we surely 
shall obtain the promise. What are those few years 
we have to pass through here, to the never ending 
eternity? I know the ties of nature are very strong, 
and parting with those loved ones is very hard to bear, 
but when we look to our Heavenl}' Father, he relieves 
our hearts, and we can sa}', "Thy will be done." 

Life to me was very sweet. 
When round the hearth we'd meet, 
My dear children all to greet; 



Life Sketches and Poems. 

When we had Hved together, 
Through cloudy and pleasant weather. 

So hard to part with one so dear, 
It has cost many a sigh and tear. 

He that we loved had little warning. 
Not even to say good-night. 
But in some future clime 

We hope to bid him good-morning. 

Oh, why shduld fear the cold, cold clay, 

Why should we fear the tomb, 
When we know we shall drop this body below, 

And enter again into bloom. 
When I think of m}- loved ones gone before, 

To that land on the other side, 
I do not fear the river of death, 

I wait for the even tide. 



Myrta's Death. 
In a few years, after m}' son's marriage, they had a 
beautiful little daughter. From the tirst time I saw 
her I loved her. No one could help loving Myrta. 
She loved music, and that was my delight. I taught 
her her first lesson in music. How patiently she would 
play on the organ. She retained her music and 
learned very fast. She was alwa3's helping me about 
my plants and flowers, and grew around my heart like 
a running vine, while she wrapped herself about me. 
In my mind it was impossible to live without her, for 



Life Sketches and Poems. 121 

she became m}' idol, and loved nature in all its beauty, 
and so did I. She had a woman's mind, though j^oung, 
and changed very fast in the last few months of her 
life. 

We could not help thinking that something very 
strange was taking place with her. She had a lovely 
voice, and Oh, how beautifully she would sing, with 
a pathos that would raise the deep feelings in your 
heart; an emotion that would not soon be forgotten, 
.she was so passive and kind. 

She was taken suddenly ill and lived but four days. 
She was transplanted into that immortal garden, like 
the blown rose just expanding into a beautiful flower. 
She was calm and collected, and willing to go. She 
had planted morning glories under her bedroom win- 
dow and the morning that she died they were in full 
bloom, and were beautiful as the morning sun shone 
upon them. "Morning glories, I will bid you good- 
bye," she said; '•! will be in that better land before to- 
morrow's sun rises." She saw the change in herself, 
and asked, "Is it death?" I told her it was. Then 
she gave presents to all, and several to her Sabbath 
School class. I stood over her to the last. Just be- 
fore her spirit left its mortal clay she seemed anima- 
ted. I said, "Myrta, what do you see?" She an- 
swered: "Two beautiful girls," and she was gone. 

Now she has two little brothers and one sister with 



122 Life Sketches and Poems. 

her. Three of my sons have flowers expanding in 
that garden, and I sit in the gloaming and muse upon 
those beautiful flowers that have been planted over 
there, and ask, "Have they expanded?" And the 
words come back in my thoughts: -'They shall blos- 
som like the rose of Sharon and the lily of the valle}'." 
And I ask: "Do they know each other there?" The 
wind sweeps b}^, and I hear in its moan: "We shall 
know, as we are known." There shall be no nioht in 
heaven. No gathering gloom shall come over that 
Elysian landscape; no tears shall be shed in sadness 
over those little buds. The fountain of tears shall be 
dried awav. At the present we can onlv see bv the 
eye of faith. We know there is a land where beauty 
never dies, and love becomes immortal. I have seen 
that beautiful land in mv dreams, whose fields are 
ever vernal; where nothing can ever fade; but bloom 
for ages eternal. 

I am ver}' glad that w'e lay down our armor on this 
side. We cannot be ferried over that river by creeds 
or manuscript. They must all float down the tide of 
death, but we shall put on the spirit's immortal bloom. 
That will be as nice a garment as we shall wish to 
wear. 

Our sainted dead dwell in a life beholding their king 
in his beauty, shining as the stars in the brightness of 
the firmament. They fade no more, nor realize pain. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 123 

A wealth of love is theirs: a heritai^e of goodness, a 
celestial habitation, and in that habitation, thoughts, 
hopes and feelings e.\"]:)and and move forward in cease- 
less progression. 

We ma}' feel sad because they are lost to us, but 
while we weep and mourn, they are wrapped in gar- 
ments of light, and warble songs of joy. They will 
return to us no more, but we shall go to them, share 
their pleasures, emulate their sympathies, and com- 
pete with them in that path of endless development. 
We would not call them back. In that home above 
they are blest; shadows fall upon them no more, nor 
is life muffled with anxious care. Love rules their 
life and thought. Who is there that has no treasure 
in heaven; our well-remembered forms hallowed by 
separation; distant stars of hope, illumed with ever 
increasing beauty. 



That Spirit Tniniortal. 

That spirit immortal 
That came down from the sky, 

That God breathed into man, 
That shall never die. 

The old house of clay 
May fall to the ground, 
But the spirit immortal 

Will not in it be found. 



124 Life Sketchks and Poems. 

As I lie on my couch 
Full of pain and distress, 

What matters it that 
I soon shall have rest. 

That spirit immortal 
Will be clothed in new bloom, 

For our blessed Saviour 
Never slept in the tomb. 



Christianity begins at home. If it is not there it is 
nowhere. We may attend meetings and sing hymns; 
join devoutly in prayer, give money to the poor, 
devote our time to doing good, and yet not be the true 
and earnest Christian w^e ought to be, if w^e cannot in 
the family at home show that we are Christians. 

If home is not better and happier for our being in 
it, and we cannot have a silent influence going out 
from us day by day, drawing those about us in the 
right direction, then it is time for us to stop and exam- 
ine ourselves, and see if our title to the name of 
Christian is good. If we possess that name, w^e shall 
be patient, kind and loving, suffering and forbearing, 
seeking with all our hearts to do good; dreading with 
all our hearts to do evil; for if we are Christ's, we 
shall be like Him. 

A few days since I was in trouble. My feelings 
w^ere hurt, my pride was taken down and my ambi- 
tion was put to a standstill. Tiien came my reasoning 



Life Sketches and Poems. 125 

faculties. They told me not to murmur. Most of us 
have had trouble all our lives. Every day has brought 
all the evil we wished to endure. If we were asked 
to recount the sorrows of our lives, how many that 
are six months old should we think worthy to be re- 
membered or mentioned. To-day, troubles look large, 
but a week hence they will be forgotten and buried 
out of sight. 

If we should keep a book, and every day put down 
the things that worry us, and see what became of them, 
it would be a benefit to us. We allow small things to 
annoy us, and lose our temper. Then we will justify 
ourselves for being thrown off our balance by causes 
that we do not trace out. But if we would see what 
it was that threw us off our balance, and put it down, 
follow it out, and ascertain what became of it, we 
would see how foolish we were in the matter. 

The art of forgetting is a blessed art, but the art of 
overlooking is more important. If we should take 
time to write the origin, progress and outcome of a 
few of our troubles, it would make us so ashamed of 
the fuss we make over them, that we should be glad 
to drop such things, and bury them at once in eternal 
fori^etfulness. 

Life is too short to be worn out in^ petty worries, 
frettings, hatreds and vexations. Let us think only on 



126 Life Sketches and Poems. 

whatsoever things are pure and lovely, and of good 

report, 

Then we shall lie down and sleep so sweet. 
And rise in the mornino; our friends to iri'eet. 



An Eveni^ig Soliloquy. 
I am sitting by my window. 

In a deep soliloquy; 
The moon rose over the city: 

It looked so full and free. 
It traveled up so high 

Above the land and sea, 
If it could write its volumes 

How grand a thing it would be. 
It would tell of castle building 

In many a shady nook; 
Of lovers' vows and pleadings, 

Down by the babbling brook. 
And how it calmed the tide. 

Causing the ripples like diamonds to shine. 
While the boat glided along. 

And the lovers their vows combined. 
It gathers up the darkness 

And sweeps the hght around 
Into many a poor man's cot. 

Where oil cannot be found. 
It dances 'round the traveler 

As he travels in the night. 
And he thanks his Heavenly Fatlier 
. For the u'ift of that o-reat liirht. 



Like Sketches and Poems. 127 

It follows that poor widow- 
As she goes to her lonely cot 

With a scanty meal of viands 
A few pennies have bought. 

With her heart wrung with sorrow 

Almost to despair, 
And nothing but the moonbeams 

To cheer her while she's there. 

And when it is full. 

It has a great command, 
It illuminates the ocean 

As well as the drv land. 

It sends its ra\s of light 

Down in the water deep, 
And the ripples look like silver 

As the vessels through them sweep. 

But when it looks on sin, 

And people it cannot trust, 
It draws its mantle about it 

And quarters in disgust. 



Dear father, why do you come to me 

In the silent shades of night, 

When the threatening darkness 
Gathers 'round and hope's bright visions flee, 

Then I feel your tender care, 
As when we sailed the sea. 

I know, dear father, you ha\e not forgot. 
Although I am old and gray. 



128 Life Sketches and Poems. 

I feel your presence ; I know you are here 
'Though never a word do vou say. 

I love to think of 3'ou, father, 

You seem not far awa}-, 
And the thoughts of you refresh me 

As I near the closing dav. 

We soon shall be to^rether 

In an atmosphere of love, 
For those that serve their Master 

Shall dwell with Him above. 

I often think about you all, 

I know you are at rest, 
Sorrow never enters 

The mansions of the blest. 



A Lady I Met on the Train. 

I met a lady on the train 
That I would like to meet again. 
Her heart was tilled with gentle bliss 
As to a poor forlorn she gave a kiss. 

A little girl had passed her station. 
Without a ticket, kin or nation; 
She took the wanderer to her side 
And her tear-wet eyes she dried. 

She gave her monev for her ride, 
And told her to be pacified; 
That she could take the down due train 
And soon would be at home again. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 129 

For that deed of kindness shown 
To that poor child that was alone; 
You poured the balm of consolation 
To that poor child not of your nation; 
God will bless you all your Hfe; 
I know you are a noble wife. 



Lines to a School Boy. 
In the morning, say your prayer, 
Do not forget that God is there ; 
Thank Him for keeping you through night, 
That you once more behold the light. 

Write your name high with the pen of truth, 
God will help you in your youth; 
Let love and good works fill your bill, 
Never say " I can't " but always say ." I will." 

What you have to do, do it with your might, 
Never take the left hand, but always take theVight. 
Go to school clean and neat, 
Happy in the morning your teacher to greet. 

Be on hand at the ring of the bell. 
Be sure you get your lessons well. 
If you take this as a rule 
You surely will out-rank the school. 



October. 
Fair September's floating tresses, 
The flaming scarlet of her poppies 
Have gone slowly down the valley. 



I30 Life Sketches and Poems. 

Time reluctant to yield her captive 
To the imperial empress, Autumn, 

Who sweeps by with regal beauty, 
Ascend her throne, and do her duty. 

To receive the homage of her royal subjects. 
The spirits of the field and forests 

Cr}', October, with thy beauty 
We will dance and do our dut}'. 

With dainty touch she turned the forest 
Into a blaze of crimson splendor. 

Across the wind-blown grasses 
She throws a robe of amber 

To keep them from the chill November. 

She shakes her royal head so haughty 
In defiance of November, 

Thirty daj^s I'll take my pleasure, 
You may stand back at your leisure. 

I have brouijht the Indian summer 
With its bounty and its splendor; 

Stand you back, you bleak November. 

Now I'll chant my joyous measure, 
Opening up m}- woodland treasures 

In the nut-brown locks I weave, 
Flowers of gold and crimson leaves. 

Old November, cold and drear, 
You are coming very near; 

In a few days it will be said 
Autumn from our land has fled. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 131 

I must take mv little band. 
Soon to leave your frozen land, 

All the choristers, old and younjf, 
Will never greet you with a song. 

They whirl, and wheel, and flutter, 
Nestle in my amber tresses; 

Away we'll fly from cold November, 
And that wicked month December, 

With but one joy to tell 
Santa Claus, the children love so well. 



Lines to the Tzventy-three. 

The Twenty-three is out for the night. 
Over the rail and through the snow 

The engineer and flreman go, 
Pulling a train of sleeping stock 

That for the world they dare not shock. 

The speed may be up to thirty-nine, 
And enter the stations very fine, 

Until they come to a monarch block, 
And then the speed will have to stop. 

The fireman stands with shovel in hand, 
Waiting the engineer's command, 

To add more fuel to the flame; 
He is working hard for fame. 

The engineer opens the throttle wide, 
And says, "old miss, this bank you'll ride;" 

It blows its breath and tills its port, 
And now is ready for the sport. 



132 Life Sketches and Poems. 

It helps the plow its part to fill, 
And it goes through the bank with a will; 

It's left the city far behind, 
It is to the woods inclined 

They know when there, it will have rest. 
They very well know it's done its best; 

They will make its toilet and put it to bed. 
Where it will rest its weary head, 

While the engineer dreams, 
With his nerves all shocked, 
Of mountains of snow 
^ And sleeping stock. 



Winter. 



The sky is dark with cloud o'ercast, 
The snow is on the ground, 

Not a leaf to gladden 
Or a spear of grass to be found. 

And so it is with life. 
All its beauties have flown 

And left me in my chamber, 
A withered branch alone. 



yiily 26th, i8gj. — Intrained. 

One evening in July, the weather was fine. 
I took a seat on the fast Soo line. 
Left the dusty city to seek a cool retreat 
Down in Wisconsin, some dear friends to meet , 



Life Sketches and Poems. 133 

At forty miles an hour, we left the city behind, 
The monarch of the rail was to the woods inclined. 
In the darkness of the night, to m}^ great dismay, 
I heard the alarm of fire, a bridge is swept away. 

The engineer reversed the steam, I knew we were 

running back; 
Soon we were seated upon a side track. 
Then arose a discussion, to pass away the time, 
"While they built another bridge, that was not very fine. 

Some were going to Boston, some to Eau Claire, 
Others said they were going to the world's fair. 
Some were very boisterous and did not know^ what to do ; 
Said they would never ride again upon the fast Soo. 

Others smiled, and thought it fine, 

Said they would have a longer ride on the fast Soo line. 

Early in the morning, tired near to death. 

We crossed that bridge, each one holding his breath. 

When we crossed the bridge, they telegraph the time, 
Can't meet connections with any other line. 
Then, in the din, and the rattle of the train, 
I lie down and went to sleep again. 



Dedicated to an Engineer. 

You have begun the battle of life, 
To work for baby and your wife; 
I hope you always will succeed 
In what you do in time of need. 



134 Life Sketches and Poems. 

I hope in truth vou'll have a friend. 
And that your brain may so expand 
To drive all errors from your track, 
That not one tie may ever slack; 
That you and your loved wife 
May run your train into the port of life. 



Good-bye to JVinctv- Three. 

We have been sitting up to bid good-bye to the old 
year, which has been very hard upon the poor. The 
laboring man has been financially oppressed. If I 
remember, fifty-seven was a year something like this. 
My husband was putting machinery into mills at Black 
River Falls. There was a great cry among the poor 
in that locality. 

It is nearing twelve o'clock at night, and the year is 
wrapping its mantle about it, to lie down in the dust of 
ages with the past years. We can say dust to dust, 
and lay it away without one regret. 

It is not very pleasant to meet with new friends. 
But we hope ninety-four will make amends. 
Your death-knell is ringing, 

I hear in the blast ♦ 

Good-bye, ninety-three, 

You are a thing of the past. 

And now I will wish you all "A happy new year." 
I am nodding and dropping off to sleep. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 135 

The year of Ninety- Three. 

The year of ninety-three — 
In records cannot be found 

Where so much oppression 

And still more discussion 
Have traveled the whole year round. 

Banks have failed, and loans have squandered 
The hard-earned pennies of the poor, 

While their children, cold and hungry, 
Beg their bread from door to door. 

I hear the sound, I hear the rush, 

The trampling, trampling, o'er and o'er, 

But in my heart there is a hush, 

A pain for years that come no more. 

Oh, God in Heaven, that knows our ways. 

And all the ways of men. 
Look upon our nation 

As Thou did in times of old; 
Send truth upon Columbia, 

That we may be controlled. 



To My Friend. 

Your head may be crowned with trouble to-day, 

Your hands may be full of care. 
Your heart may ache for the want of a friend 

To aid you in your prayer. 

If you turn to that chart that lays on your stand, 
That teaches us all to pray. 



136 Life Sketches and Poems. 

It will lighten the burden that falls on your head, 
And strengthen your hands for the day. 

Your heart that aches so much for a friend, 

Will find it in that precious blood; 
He will wash you and make you as white as snow, 

And at last take you up to your God. 

Your little angel while in your youth. 
Came to you and taught you truth; 

Gathered up your prayers and tears 
And carried up to endless spheres. 

Childhood's well remembered shrine. 

Ever beaming out before you, 
Oh, our Father most divine, 

Wreaths immortal round you twine. 



The Bible. 

No book is like the Bible 

For children, youth and age, 

Our duty, plain and simple, 
We find on every page. 

It came by inspiration, 
A light to guide our way, 

A voice from Him who gave it, 
Reproving when we stray. 

Oh! Let us love the Bible, 
And praise it more and more; 

Our life is like a shadow. 
Our days will soon be o'er. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 137 

And if we closely follow 

The counsels God hath given, 
We then may hope, with angels, 

To sing His praise in heaven. 



Christmas £vc. 

Far back in my musings 

My thoughts have been cast, 
To home and that Christmas, 

The last ever passed. 

All its surroundings in memory I see. 
And they were all very sacred to me; 

I knew it must be the last Christmas that I 
should ever pass 
In that hallowed home I had loved to the last. 

I think of my mother that long ago died; 

I think of us children that sat by her side; 
I ask not honor; but this boon 1 crave, 

That I might but once sit by my dear moth- 
er's efrave. 



Gladstone, Michigan, i8g2. 

I entered this city the tenth da}^ of May; 

It is situated on de Noc bay; 
It has large ore docks built out on a strand. 

With a very fine harbor that ships command. 

With a population of two thousand or more. 
Building up railroads and docks on the shore; 



138 LiFK Sketches and Poems. 

For fishing and hunting you will not tind it slow, 
Unless through the deep sand 3'ou are called to go. 

They have two streets that are very fine. 

All that is lacking is Tom Lowry's line. 
Nature's the part that I do adore, 

Foliage most beautiful all around the shore, 
Tells us the cold spring has passed, 

And sweet summer has come at last. 



Trailing Arbutus. 

Beautiful Arbutus 

Sweet flower of spring, 
Trailing so lovely 

Before the birds sing. 

Dressed in Nature's gown 
Of red, pink and white. 

Sending forth odors 
Our hearts to delight. 

The soil of the garden 
Can ne'er be its bed; 

Out in the lone valley 
It lifts up its head. 

Oh. great is that Father 
That dwelleth above. 

That trails the arbutus 
And hlls us with love. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 139 

Aly Dream. 

I dreamed that I was traveling, 

A friend guided the train; 
We were on a level grade 

But did not there remain. 

The train rose in the air 
Like a bird upon the wing, 

And it never made a stop 

'Till round a city it did swing. 

Early in the morning. 

As the birds began to sing, 

We entered that city 
Like an arrow from a string. 

How we made a stop, I can not tell, 
I was in i. back coach, could not see very well, 
'But when I left the train, I had a great surprise, 
There was a large city a-towering to the skies. 

It laid out on a beautiful strand, 

With streets very wide, paved with a silvery sand. 

I wandered about, how, I cannot explain, 

'Till I found myself in a long, narrow lane, 

That led to a vallev most beautiful to behold. 

With its dark green foliage, and its flowers of red and 

gold; 
Roses that had an early birth, 
Nothing ever like them that grew upon the earth. 

They were drinking in the morning dew, glittering 

and bright, 
Sending forth their odor, they filled me with delight. 



140 Life Sketches and Poems. 

In the midst of all my joy, I heard an engine whistle, 

and that the stillness broke, 
Then in a great excitement I awoke. 



It's autumn, and the leaves are dry 

And rustle on the ground; 
Chilly winds go whistling by 

With a low and pensive sound. 

The birds have left their northern home, 
Have sought a warmer clime. 

We hear no more their warble 
In the lofty pine. 

And I must leave my snug retreat 

And take a western train, 
The friends I love are calling me, 

I must go home again. 

'Tis hard to part with those we love, 
And from them far to roam, 

But if we never meet on earth 
We all shall meet at home. 



November ^ i8gj. 

The sky with clouds is overcast. 
And everything is drear ; 

We hear the rain-drops patter, 
We know a storm is near. 

While we are snugly cornered 
Down in our little nest, 



Life Sketches and Poems. 141 

We think of those poor creatures 
Financially oppressed. 

The cold, bleak winter 's comino-, 

Many will cry for bread ; 
Robbed of their daily sustenance, 

How can their children be fed? 

Oh, Lord, we ask of Thee to give them their 
daily bread, 
That they, like the ravens, may always be fed. 
Thou wilt not leave them unhappy to be, 

When Thou hast said, "Let little children 
come unto Me." 



You may think, dear reader, it is very simple to be 
so personal in writing this book. No doubt there is 
mart}' a poor widow that is left with small means. 
They may tind encouragement to persevere. My 
motto is not to be cast down by trifles. If a spider 
breaks his web twenty times, twenty times will he 
mend it. Make up your mind to do a thing, and you 
will do it if it is proper that you should. It is not so 
much in luck as in force. 

I have been a great observer, and am willing to be 
taught by a child, if it would lead me to a higher life. 
I had pleasure and plenty in childhood; in middle age, 
hard work and trials; and now, while writing at the 
age of three-score and ten, I have poor health, not 
able to mingle in society, but I have not lost my am- 



142 Life Sketches and Poems. 

bition. This is why I write this book; I must do 
something. 

It is the fifteenth of March, my birth-day, and I 
have a little poem for m^- readers. It is original. 



My Birth-day, March, /j, iSg^. 

Ju§t three-score years and ten to-day, 
I came into this world to stay. 

In a beautiful home down by the sea. 
Where I was cradled in infancy. 

My mother <ift on me would smile, 
And say she loved her darling child ; 

She asked God's blessing ever}- day, 
And taught me early how^ to pray. 

And when my brain began to expand, 
I remember the pebbly strand. 

Where full of laughter, fun and gle^, 
A little band played tag with me. 

But now the story soon is told, 

I am growing very old, 
But still bright visions come to me. 

Of that little band dow^n by the sea. 



Aw^ay from the city, 
Its turmoil and care, 

Surrounded by foliage, 
Birds singing in air. 



Life Skktches and Poems. 143 

If this dear retreat, 

I could once call my home, 
Nothinij would tempt me 

Again to roam. 



Mother Oak. 
The young trees sprout up, 

They have forgot their mother oak 
That through the storms of winter 

The chilly winds have broke. 

The}' have grown so very stately, 
Their branches spread around. 

It is almost impossible 

For the old oak to be found. 

But remember, young trees. 

You ma}^ grow with all your strife, 

But with the cold storms of winter 
You must battle for your life. 



ClintonviUc, Wis., August 2g, i8gj. 

It is evening, dear Florane, 

Nature's at rest; 
The last beams of sunHght 

Shine dim in the west. 

I am out in the forest. 

Among the green trees 
That Nature 's snipping, 

They will soon be dry leaves. 



144 Life Sketches and Poems. 

The air is getting chilly, 
To the house I must repair, 

They have lit the lights in the parlor, 
And drawn in my easy chair. 

I have a little parlor to myself alone, 

Surrounded by foliage, 
Roses, withered' and gone. 

With kind, loving friends 
That for me do their best, 

It would be presumption 
If I could not rest. 



With the Holy Spirit to guide us, I am well assured 
there is not a prayer that we utter, or a tear that we 
shed, but that is gathered up and carried to the Fath- 
er's throne. The same Lord who hath bidden us 
acquit ourselves like men, has also said, "Rejoice in 
the Lord, always." 

The believers have their sweets, and these are of 
the choicest. What is more joyful than the joy of a 
saint? What more happy than the happiness of a be- 
liever? Christ said, "He must go away that the com- 
forter might come." This Holy Spirit comes to take 
the place of Christ. How often do we feel that invita- 
tion. How often, when we are stepping aside from 
the paths of virtue and honor, do we not hear that 
still, small voice entreating us to return to our Father's 
house. Then if we will heed, then we will be blest. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 145 

Dear reader, whoever you may be, if you have 
troubles and trials, keep up good courage. Though 
the day may be very dark, even like the darkness of 
night, if you strugg'le with a holy motive, the morning 
will dawn upon you, bringing joy and gladness. These 
Httle trials are the soul's discipline. If we are Christ's 
we shall be like Him; and I say, now for the work, 
hereafter for the wages: earth for the cross, and 
heaven for the crown. 

I suppose you will say, I am old, and have nothing 
else to do but to get ready to die. I have had some- 
thing to do, dear reader. But I think if we are not 
willing to give our hearts to God in our youth, it will 
be very hard for us to do that in old age. We are apt 
to become hardened, like the bark of the oak that has 
had the storms of winter to beat upon it until it is very 
hard. So with life, we harden as we grow older, 
unless we have the softening power. 

I would say, dear mothers, 

Your daughters should rise and demand 
That you drive away those wicked serpents 

That breed discontent in our land. 

Be prudent before you are zealous; 

Not generous, only, but just. 
Our hearts are full of emotion 

When we see how they outrage your triist. 



146 Life Sketches and Poems. 

The}' crowd around 30ur places; 

They sneer at the love they receive. 
We say, shut the door in their faces 

Until thev learn to behave. 



S/iozv Pity. 
Help us to walk in Thy bright light, 
That we may wear those robes of white, 
Then we shall drop our every care, 
And be at home, if Christ is there. 

My dear sisters, we must help each other. Man}- a 
woman goes through life with scarcely one bright, 
cheerful, encouraging, hopeful word. She toils hard 
and in lowlv obscurity. She gives out her life freely 
and unstintedly for others. 

I remember such a woman. She was not brilliant. 
She was not great. But she was faithful, though she 
had many things to discourage her. Trouble thick- 
ened about her life. She was misrepresented and 
misunderstood. Everybody believed she was a good 
woman, but no one ever said a kind word or pleasant 
things to her. She never heard a compliment, or 
scarce a good wish. No one e\'er took pains to 
strengthen her feeble knees, or lighten her burdens, or 
to lift up her heart b}- a gentle deed of love. She was 
neglected. Unkind things were said about her. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 147 

I stood by her coffin, and. then there were many 
tongues to speak her praises. There was not a breath 
of aspersion in the air. Women spoke of her self de- 
nial; of her work among the poor; of her quietness, 
modesty, her humility, her pureness of heart, her 
faithfulness and prayer. 

There were many who spoke indignantl}- of the 
charges that falsehood had forged against her in past 
years; of the trials she had to go through. There 
were enough kind things said during the two or three 
days that she lay in her coffin, and while the company 
stood around her open grave, to have blessed her, and 
made her happy all the 3'ears that she lived, and to 
have thrown sweetness and joy about her soul during 
all her painful journey. 

There was enough sunshine wasted about the black 
coffin to have made her life happy many years. But 
her ears were closed then, and could not hear a word 
that w^as- spoken. Her heart was still and could not 
be thrilled by the grateful sounds. She cared noth- 
ing for the sw eet flowers that were piled upon her 
coffin. The love blossomed out too late. The kind- 
ness came when the life could not receive it any more 
than a bud would become a blossom without the in- 
fluence of the sun. 

In this world of wickedness and sin it seems impos- 
sible to be all on a perfect equality. When we meet 



148 Life Sketches and Poems. 

people that are bright, and beautiful and good, we 
have no difficulty in loving them. All the people of 
heaven will be like that. There will be no fear of 
misplaced confidence there. Let us strive by doing 
all the good we can. and by helping each other we 
may yet wear that crown that is promised to the 
faithful. 

When our Lord from earth did rise, 

To holy mansions in the skies, ♦ 

He said He would a place prepare. 

That we might dwell with Him when there. 

O blessed truth, that hope divine, 
It fills my heart with love sublime; 
Lord gives us strength, day by day. 
That we may travel on our way. 

I am aged and retired from the world's care, with 
poor health. I have been a worker in the Methodist 
church more than fifty years, and in that time I have 
been thrown into all kinds of societ}-. I think we 
should posess charity; the bible tells us that without 
that gift we are as sounding brass and tinkling cym- 
bals. 

I think we should abound in hope through the 
power of the holy spirit, and if we are filled with that 
spirit, we shall be very hopeful. I contemplate this 
before I write. I think women, as mothers, are too 
backward about the fallen; we are fearful of contami- 



Life Sketches and Poems. 149 

nation. I think that no fallen creature can mar us if 
we have God's holy spirit in our hearts. Men try 
very hard to rescue their brothers from intemperance; 
why not we be as ardent to rescue our sisters from ig- 
nominy? I think we should not ignore them until all 
hope is lost. Was not her cradle as pure as ever a 
loved infant found? A mother pressed her fondly to 
her bosom. When she was fair as a lily, when you 
saw her in her beauty, you would not have thought of 
the rose growing poisonous then. As womanhood ad- 
vanced, those graces ripened to the bud and burst into 
bloom. Health glowed on her cheeks, love looked 
from her eyes, and an atmosphere of purity surrounded 
her. 

Alas, she forsook the guide of her youth. Oh, 
mother, if you could have seen that serpent lurking, 
you might have broken the spell, but alas you saw it 
not. Mothers, you should not use false modesty with 
your daughters. Then they will know how to shun 
the paths of vice. I have heard too many heart 
broken stories not to resent this evil that is growing 
in our land every day. I was so impressed by the fall 
of a beautiful girl of my acquaintance, that I wrote 
this poem. 

The Ser-pent. 
I saw a voung Eve, beautiful and kind. 
Going to the valley, arbutus to tind. 



150 Life Sketches and Poems. 

Stop, young Eve, I have been told, 
There's a serpent there, a lie to unfold. 

She heeds me not, but follows his track, 
And all my deep pleadings can ne'r bring her back. 
She's been charmed by that serpent; now full of dis- 
grace, 
That very serpent will hiss in her face. 



A Pica for Boys. 
Most boys go through a period when they have 
great need of patient love at home. They are awk- 
ward and clumsy; sometimes strangely wilful! and per- 
verse. They are conscious of themselves, and very sensi- 
tive to the least word of censure, or effort at restraint. 
Authority frets them. They are leaving their child- 
hood, but they have not reached the sober, good sense 
of manhood. They are an easy prey to the tempter. 
Perhaps they adopt skeptical views from sheer desire to 
prove that they are independent, and can do their own 
thinking. That is an age when a widowed mother, 
who has sons to carry through that period of life, 
needs a heart full of wisdom. If you have a tine in- 
sight, and a serene faith, you may hold them fast. 
There is no love like a mother's in that critical time 
of a boy's life. Do not curb him down, but influence 
him for o-ood. That is the a ^e when bovs love their 
pets. They are generallv friends to nature. They 



Life Sketches and Poems. 151 

love to roam the forests, hunt o-ophers, and carry 
water in their hats, if they can not hnd anything better, 
to drown them out of their holes. 

I do not think it is possible to model boys into man- 
hood before their time. Nature must have its demand. 
I think there would be as much sense in saying to the 
sprout of the oak, " Why are you not like your mother 
tree?" as to say to the boy " Why are you not a 
man.^" If we have a genuine trust in God, a life of 
meek acquiescence in his will lived daily through 
years in the presence of sons, it is an immense power. 
They never can get away from the sweet memory 
that Christ was their mother's friend. In view of 
these responsibilities and their far reaching effects, 
well may we exclaim, " Who is sufficient for these 
things?" But we will remember that He who has 
laid upon us those duties has also said "Call upon me, 
I will supply all your need." . 

I remember a family in Oshkosh, Wis., one block 
away from my home. They had several boys and 
they were called bad boys. Some of my tenants were 
often terrified by them. I had no one left to look af- 
ter me or my property, but I never feared them; they 
were very respectful to me. They seemed to have a 
passion to destroy all that came in their way. I had 
great pity for them, for their home was not a happy 
home. There was no tidiness; it was not warmed by 



152 Life Sketches and Poems. 

affection or lighted up with cheerfulness; they were 
never encouraged. One sentence of lionest praise be- 
stowed at the right time, is worth a whole volley of 
scolding. Every one likes a little praise. There is 
many a boy who has been stunted or soured by harsh 
discouragement, and there is many a grown man who 
needs a sympathizing word to carr}- him through the 
battle of life. The sun understands how to raise plants. 
At this season of the 3'ear he just smiles on them 
and kisses them with his warm ra3S. The}' begin to 
grow and unfold. 

The oldest son of this family was called the worst 
boy in the city. He was fifteen years of age and was 
continually doing mischief to some one's property, cut- 
ting fences or breaking glass. He wanted to mar the 
beauty of everything that came in his way. I was 
closing up my business to pass a year or two away 
from home. My friends told me that I would not have 
any buildings left when I returned home. I told them 
I would use my influence and see what effect that 
would have. When I was ready to leave home, I 
called to the oldest boy as he was passing and told 
him I was going away from home, probably for some 
time, and that there were several bad boys around the 
corner, and I asked him if he would look after the 
boys and see that the}' did not destroy my property 
while I was away from home. He had dropped his 



LuE Sketches and Poems. 153 

head so that I should not see his face while I was talk- 
ing to him. When I asked that favor of him, he raised 
his eyes to mine and said, '-Your property shall not be 
destroyed by boys while you are away." And I saw 
his face light up at that moment. I knew I had struck 
a chord in his heart. He did as he said he would do, 
allow no boy around that corner if he knew^ it. 

My friends wrote me that from that time he changed 
his habits, and now he is a respectable young man. 
Children are not to blame when, in their daily life and 
intercourse, there is no expression of affection, none 
of the pleasant and fond behaviour that you see in 
families which have been taught to love each other, 
for there is an absolute hardness in language which is 
shocking to every sensitive, tender person. Between 
father and mother, brother and sister, they will pass 
hard and hasty words, yes, angry words, far more 
frequentl}' than words of endearment. One to see 
and hear them would think they hated, instead of lov- 
ing, each other. It did not enter into their heads, that 
it was their duty, as it should be their best pleasure, 
to do and say all they possibly could for each other's 
good and happiness. How unpleasant to see a family 
not agree; each one for themselves; the father orders 
and growls; the mother frets, complains and scolds; 
the children snap, snarl and whine, and so goes the 
day. 



154 Life Sketchics and Poems. 

Alas for us if this is a type of Heaven, for the fam- 
ily is said to be the nearest approach to heaven of 
anything on earth. But give me a cave in the earth. 
a lodge in any waste, howling wilderness, where no hu- 
man being ever comes, rather than an abode with par- 
ents, friends or kindred in which I must hear or utter 
language that causes pain. No wealth nor advantages 
of any kind would induce me to live with people with 
such a nature. The dearer they were to me the less 
would I remain with them, if they did not do all they 
could to make each other happy. 

With mere strangers one might endure, even under 
such circumstances, to remain for a time, for what they 
say or do has but a limited effect upon one's feelings. 
It is a sad moment for a child when he begins to sus- 
pect that there is anywhere in the wide world a dearer 
or sweeter place than home. A mother immersed in 
society, and a father steeped in the club, are starting 
that suspicion in their children and fostering it every 
day. The influences of home perpetuate themselves. 
The gentle grace of the mother lives in her daughter 
long after her head is pillowed in the dust of death; 
and fatherly kindness finds its nobility in the sons, 
while on the other hand go forth persons who will 
make their homes miserable. They will carry that 
atmosphere of sadness and strife which have made 
their own earlv lives so miserable and wretched. To- 



Lu-E Sketches and Poems. 155 

ward the cheerful home the children gather as clouds, 
and as doves to their windows, while from the home 
which is the abode of discontent and strife and trouble 
they fiy forth as vultures to rend their pre3\ 

An ideal home must have a government, but love 
must be the dictator. All the members should unite 
to make home happy. It matters not whether home is 
clothed in blue and purple, if it is only brim full of love, 
smiles and gladness. We should have birds, flowers 
and pets; everything to enjoy sociability. Flowers 
are indispensable to the perfection of the home. Those 
pleasant memories come up in after life so mysterious- 
Iv; at times we can see our beautiful flower garden 
that we had in our youth, and we can see the cool 
spring and the shady trees in our yard. Then again, 
we see that old school-house where we were first 
taught in our primer, where we were called out and 
the order was, "Toes to the line!" Then we must all 
make a respectful bow to our teacher before we com- 
menced our lesson. One teacher taught us nine years. 
He was faithful to his trust. He now sleeps in the 
dust. And again I ask, has he not a school on the 
other side? He was a very good old Puritan. 



Anecdotes of Early Days. 
I suppose it will be proper to tell the boys and girls 
a few anecdotes of sixty years ago. I remember 



156 Life Sketches and Poems. 

when I was very fond of sitting down at my grand- 
mother's knee and listening to stories of her early life. 
The situation of my native town I remember very 
well. It was not a city at that period. Our school- 
house was situated at the north end of the town, in a 
valley with a swamp of cedar trees not a block away. 
Down below the school-house was a small pond where 
the little girls loved to slide. It would not have been 
proper in those days for girls to put on skates. It 
would have shocked our Puritan mothers. The}' 
would have told us we were getting ver}- bold. You 
see our privileges were very small to what you boys 
and girls have in this age. 

The winter of 1836 was a very cold winter, with a 
vast amount of snow. The boys busied themselves in 
building a fort on the top of one of those hills. It 
looked very grand. It arched over at the top to form 
a vault, and was made as permanently as it possibly 
could be with snow. They had port holes in their 
fort, and they could stand unobserved and snow-ball 
us girls in the valley. Our Puritan blood was up ; we 
thought we were very much abused. We held a 
council and then in a body went to our teacher. The 
dear old fellow ; he was father, mother and brother to 
us girls. The boys thought we need have no fun as 
we were girls and ought to sit down and keep quiet. 
Our teacher told us to come the next day prepared 



Life Sketches and Poems. 157 

and he would, with our help, take the fort. We did 
not know what course he w^ould take, but we knew he 
was in earnest. We came the next day prepared in 
mind with our hearts full of glee. We thought the 
time had come when we should have sweet revenge 
on those boys. Most of the school children carried 
their lunch. The school was dismissed at noon and 
the most of the boys were in the fort taking their 
lunch. 

Our teacher called us around him and made a little 
speech. He had dev^ised his scheme and told us not 
to have any dialogues with the boys, but to go out to 
the edge of the swamp, where there were large piles 
of small poles, cut for garden purposes, and each one 
take a pole and follow him. We got our poles and 
he took a detour around the hill and came up behind 
the port-holes and ordered us to charge. The boys 
were eating their dinners, and were taken by sur- 
prise. You would have smiled to have heard them 
declaim after school was called. Teacher told them 
he had been watching their despotism for some time. 
He had frequently spoken to them about i', but they 
had not heeded him; so, by not doing as their teacher 
wished them to, they lost their fort. 

While I am writing I can almost see the ruddy 
cheeks and smiHng faces of my school-mates of sixty 
years ago. The most of them have passed the por- 



158 Life Sketches and Poems. 

tals, and of those who are left, their heads are white 
with the frosts of many winters, Hke myself, and anon 
the song my mother sung springs'unbidden to my lips 
and soothes and sweetens all these memories. Then 
again some mournful train of thought throws the mind 
into another channel and we mourn. But light breaks 
forth from behind the cloud in the sky, and new cour- 
age is given us, and such is life. While we sit and 
watch from our window the merry groups of school- 
children as they go back and forth to their school, if 
we are in moody silence, the merry whistle or the loud 
laughing children will wake up our memories of by- 
gone days. 

I will say to those children, it is the sunshine, not the 
clouds, that give beaut}' to the flowers. Look on the 
bright side, it is the right side. You little ones have 
your troubles as well as others. None are free from 
them and perhaps it is just as well that none should be. 
The}' give sinew and tone to life; fortitude and cour- 
age to all. There is more ^•irtue in one sunbeam than 
in a whole hemisphere of clouds and gloom. Let your 
cheerfulness be felt for good wherever you are, and 
let your smiles be scattered like sunbeams. Such a 
disposition will yield a rich reward, for its happy ef- 
fects will come home to you and brighten your mo- 
ments of thought. 

Cheerfulness makes the mind clear; gives tone to 



Life Sketches and Poems. 159 

thought, and adds grace and beauty to the counten- 
ance. Smiles are Httle things, cheap articles to be 
fraught with so many blessings both to the gi\er and 
the receiver; pleasant little ripples to watch as we 
stand on the shore of every-day life. These are the 
higher and better responses of nature to the emotion 
of the soul. Let the children have the benefit of them. 
If you want confidence, prove yout self worthy of it. 
Deser\e success and it will come; do not be ct)ntent 
with what others have done, surpass it. 

What pride is felt by parents in the honest success 
of their bovs! How they like to hear of his good and 
manlv behavior in school, in the counting-house, or on 
the deck where lives are to be saved and liberty pre- 
served. That parent lived for some purpose that 
rooted and grounded in sound principles, equipping 
well the son or daughter for the voyage of life. It is 
a duty the neglect of which is sure to entail sorrow 
and shame. Nice families, what a comfort they are to 
their homes. You are sure to find in such homes 
peace and prosperity. We are not doing enough. 
John Gray says, '-The hand that rocks the cradle rules 
the world." Dr. Talmage says, "You will get out of 
the world just so much as you earn by Nour own hand 
and brain." In these times of strife and clashing we 
should attend strictly to our own business, that will 
help us to look out for our own interests. We must 



i6o Life Sketches and Poems. 

be willing to watch; to fight with steady front; to repel 
temptation; be fearful of little sins; take an alarm at 
even an evil thought. If you overcome those you will 
not have a desire to sin. 



Follozv the Master. 
The best way to follow the Master 

Is not to sit at our ease 
And cultivate selfishly, 

Our own hearts to please. 

But to proclaim His name to others, 
To seek souls for whom He died: 

Tell them that Jesus of Nazareth 
For them was crucified. 

When Philip came to Nathaniel 

No uncertain words he spoke; 
We have found Him of whom Moses 

And the Prophets have wrote. 

When Nathaniel objected, 

A good thing out of Nazareth, 
How can that be? 

How practical Philip's retort,"Come and see.' 



It is God's holy Sabbath day; 

I am left alone to read and pray. 
Dear Lord, this day will remembered be. 

Thou hast shown Thy mysteries unto me. 



Life Sketches and PoEiMs. i6i 

The day has glided sweetly b3% 

And I must go and make my tea; 
Soon the soft and silent shades 

Will throw their sombre pall o'er me. 
This holy calm within my breast, 

Makes this a day of holy rest; 
I love my friends, 1 trust I have no foes; 

That's why from Christ I draw this sweet 
repose. 



Evening Prayer. 

Oh, Lord, will Thou bless my children to-night; 

When through with this world 
May they wear robes of white. 

And, Oh God, may they see in the light of thy Son 

Who suffered and died, 
That those robes might be won. 



To TJwse I Love. 

Walk in the light; so shalt thou know^ 

That fellowship of love, 
When your dear mother is at rest 

You'll think of her above. 

Walk in the light, and you shall find 
Your hearts made truly His; 

Who dwells in cloudless Hght enshrined, 
In whom no darkness is. 



i62 LiFK Sketches and Poems. 

I love 3'ou all, in}- dear friends, 
You are to me so sweet, 

I pray our Lord in heaven above 
We all with Him shall meet. 



Hail Easter morn that saw our Lord arise 

And break the bands of death, to ascend to the skies. 



Nature again is in its bloom, 
Christ has risen from the tomb; 
He has done his Father's will, 
And the prophet's words fultilled. 

A beautiful angel dressed in white. 
Came to me one storm}- night; 
Her eyes were blue, her hair was gold, 
A lovely creature to behold. 

I said, "You came from our God of love." 
She said, "Oh, no, He dwells above." 
She glided away, I began to fret, 
I \\anted to go, but she said, "Not yet." 

Some beautiful clouds came down from the 

skies, 
A.nd made a ladder to m}- surprise. 
She mounted the clouds, no more to be seen, 
And I awoke to find it a dream. 



Dedicated to Mrs. Wilson. 
My dear friend, I see you now. 
Seated in my old arm chair, 



Life Sketches and Poems. 163 

Witii face aglow and heart so big 

That 3-ou can scarcely hold it there. 
You have faced the storms of winter cold, 

To cheer the heart of one that's old; 
An angel in disguise to me, 

Filling m}^ heart with joy and glee. 
May your paths with roses bloom, 

And fill your heart with sweet perfume. 
That everything you do and say 

May bring God's blessing every day, 
And happy may \ou be 

Through time and through eternity. 



The Change of Tluic. ■ 
Oh time and change, my hair so gray. 

And still I pass those winter days. 
How strange it seems with so much gone. 

Of Hght and love, to still live on. 

Alone, look where I may the wide world o'er, 
Those loving faces smile no more. 



Home Songs. 
Oh, sing once more those joyful strains, 

Which, half forgotten, in my memory dwell; 
They send the Hfe-blood bounding through my veins. 

And circle round me like an airy spell. 
The songs of home are to the human heart 

Far dearer than the notes that song birds pour, 



164 Life Sketches and Poems. 

And of our inner nature seem a part; 

Then sing those dear, famihar la3-s once more. 



Ch)'ist''s Last Supper. 

The time was at hand that our Lord should be slain; 

To die on the cross for poor sinful man. 
He goes into the holy city, with splendor untold, 

And there His last message to them did unfold. 

When He entered that city He was not at a loss; 

He knew that His Father had sent Him to die on 
the cross. 
While in that city they called Him their King, 

And loud up to heaven His praises did sing. 

Yet at that moment He knew^ He must fall, 
Still on the people, aloud He did call; 

The time for that supper was at hand, 

When to His disciples He gave a command. 

Go to the city, to a certain man. 

Tell him "The Master saith. my time is at hand." 

The disciples their Lord obeyed'; 

The passover on the table was laid, 
It 's evening; they surround the board; 

My soul, stand still, while I gaze on m}- Lord. 

As He breaks that bread. 

It is the work of a God. I hear His voice, 
I see the flash in His eye, 

He knows that very moment for man He must die. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 165 

Oh, what agony there I see; 

Hark ! He makes that solemn decree, 
One at my table a traitor must be. 

His disciples arise with a loud cry, 
Saying, "Lord, is it I? Lord, is it L?" 

Each one anxious to know his fate, 

Then Jesus saith, "It is he who dippeth with me 
in the plate." 



Chrisfs Travels. 

How I love to read in that history of old, 

Where our Saviour has traveled, the truth to un- 
fold. 

Oh, Gethsemane, once the scene of despair. 

With thy beautiful foliage and clover beds fair. 

Where our Saviour knelt in agonized pra3'er; 

When He prayed to His Father, His will to be 
done. 

Then God sent an angel to comfort His Son. 

Dear Mount of Olives, you ne'r can unfold; 

Half of your glory can never be told. 

Those venerable oaks, that's a thousand years 

old 
If they could tell their history of youth, 
No doubt would tell us a great many truths. 
Where our Saviour in agonized prayer, 
Knelt under their branches, and prayed for us 

there. 

Thou that hung bleeding on that rough tree, 
Yes, blessed Saviour, Thou died for me. 



i66 Life Sketches and Poems. 

We will strain every nerve, we will strive for the 

prize, 
For our calling in Christ, a home in the skies. 

Make me, O Father, more grateful for life, * 
More anxious to serve, more like him to be. 
Who gave His own life, a ransom for me. 
'Till the summons I hear, in accents of love, 
"Daughter, come higher, and serve me above." 



Condolence. 
Dear friends, I am sorr}' for your loss, 

I know it is hard to bear: 
If you will look to our Lord of love. 

He will help you in your prayer. 

The cloud that seems so dark to-day. 

May overflow with love. 
And sends his blessings on your head, 

Right from the courts above. 



Rebekah at the Weil. 
I think our pastor to us did unfold 

A beautiful story, of Rebekah, of old. 
That angel that came to the w^ell. 

Must have strengthened our pastor, 
That story to tell. 

Great was the faith of the prophets of old, 

To ask that God's angels the truth might unfold. 

Rebekah was destined by God's holy will, 

To let down her pitcher and draw from the well. 



Life Skktches and Poems. 167 

We read that Jacob's well had a large demand, 
And watered the people and cattle of that land; 

But we have a fountain from dear Jesus' side, 
That strengthens and helps us the storms to 
outride; 

And if we are faithful and do our best. 

He will take us up yonder, in heaven to rest. 



Peter'' s Mother-in-La%v. 

The compassionate Master takes her by the hand, 

The fever leaves at His command; 

She arises with strength to do good, 
And goes forth and serves them food. 



A Mo7'ni)ig Prayer. 
From my bed I will arise, 
To thank my Father in the skies, 
That He has kept me through the night. 
That I once more behold the Hght. 

Thou didst send Thy blessings from above, 
To till my soul with perfect love. 
And lead me through this world of strife, 
Up to the courts of endless Hfe. 

When wrecked with pain and sore distressed, 

That I could not have any rest, 

Around my bed where the shadows meet, 

I would hear a voice that was so sweet. 

"I am thy Father, do my will; 

Peace be still, peace be still." 



i68 Life Sketches and Poems. 

Minneapolis^ May 2j. 
The cold spring has passed awa}', and birds, 
And bees, and flowers, and trees, are all in nature's 

garb. 
I know there is a union twixt nature's heart and 

mine. 
I love landscape, birds and flowers, 
And in every bower I can see God's love divine. 

Oh, dear friends, you might wander far and wide. 
Nor find a spot in the country's pride, 
So fair to us as the north-east side. 

Far away from the haunts of sin, 
And the noxious breath of distiller}- men, 
We pass our daA's in sweet content, 
As down the valley of life we are sent. 

And I hope dear friends when we cross that tide, 

That we will then in love abide. 

And tell our trials while here below, 

How we traveled our paths through weal and woe. 



Chrisfs Baptism. 
God sent his son to dwell on earth, 
To conquer man's rebellious will; 

He gave His blood their hearts to win. 

To save them from the power of sin. 

He came to His own, they received Him not; 
They thought God's Son must come 

With splendor untold. 

To them the mvsteries of heaven unfold. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 169 

Christ journeys over hill and dale, 
Until He gathers up a band; 

He fills their hearts with love to God, 

And gives them great command. 

John, girded and bold came preaching 
In the wilderness, as the prophets foretold, 
Saying, '• Repent ye, the kingdom is at hand, 
Jesus of Nazareth will soon take command." 

John was baptizing in Jordan's flood. 
Said to the people, " Behold the Lamb of God." 
Jesus came to John, made a demand, 
That he should baptise Him to fulfill that great 
command. 

The prophet baptized Him, 
Beneath the rolling wave, 

Jesus of Nazareth who came 

The world to save. 

When coming out of the water. 
The spirit from above. 

Lit upon our Saviour 

In the form of a dove. 

Then by the spirit to the wilderness was led. 
Tempted forty days without eating bread, 

Jesus bore all our burdens dark wdth sin. 

That He might know how to pity us when we 
come to Him. 



The Death Angel. 
When the Angel of Death 
Spreads his wing o'er my pillowy 



lyo Life Sketches and Poems. 

The days of my life will be done. 
When the shadows of death 
Are gathered around me; 

Oh then I will trust in the Son. 



Minneapolis^ May ij, i8g^. 
This morning I have seated myself to write. The 
chilly atmosphere causes me to take my wraps and I 
sit looking out on Northeast Minneapolis, with its 
beautiful green fields. I can look up the hill and see 
lovely groves dressed with their robes of nature. Min- 
neapolis is a beautiful city, with our noble Mississippi 
running through the center; the falls of St. Anthony 
sending its sparkling water down over the rapids be- 
low, and you may travel the country over and find 
nothing more beautiful than the falls of Minnehaha, 
with its waters sparkling in the sun. 

Fair Minnehaha, you can boast over all, 
With your grand simplicity in nature's fall. 

Fair laughing water. We stand on your brink 
And see on this footstool here below 
Such radiant gems of beauty flow ' 

With glittering diamonds fraught. 

And I think how good God was to place us in this 
beautiful world. It is true we have aches and pains 
and sorrows. That is how our Father chastizes his 
children, and the more severely we are dealt with, the 
more' beautiful our home over there. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 171 

I hope we may all in truth abide 

Till we cross over to the other side; 

No forms or crosses shall w^e have that day 

They will float on the river of death far away. 



The Cross. 

Christ is our great example in cross-bearing. He 
had nowhere to lay his head, not a rag to cover him in 
death, nor anything but a borrowed grave for burial. 
He says, "Come, take up thy cross and follow me." 
To the end of life the way of Christ is a cross-bearing 
way, full of self-denial. Are we willing to stand at 
that point and identify ourselves with his followers? I 
remember hearing of a lady who was always trying to 
do great things for the Lord, and because she could 
not, she never did anything. There are a great many 
who would be willing to do great things that would 
not stoop to small things. To such I would say, 
"Little drops of water, little grains of sand, make the 
mighty ocean and the pleasant land." 

Are we trusting in a righteousness of our own? I 
hope if we are, we shall leave that loom. They are 
the gossamer threads of our own vows and promises, 
ever snapping in our hand and breaking at every 
throw of the shuttle. The robe of righteousness a 
raiment for our souls and approved by God, was never 
woven there, it was wrought upon the cross. 



172 Life Sketches and Poems. 

Oh, think of our Lord that bare all our shame, 
And died on the cross for poor sinful man; 
That cross that he carried to set our hearts free 
Was a rude, heavy cross made out of a tree. 

I imagine Him reeling under His load: 
No doubt he had lost most of his blood. 
A stranger took hold of that rough tree 
And bore it away to calvary. 

In the morning at the hour of nine 
Our Lord to the cross they did confine, 
And soldiers, by the king's command 
Drove nails into his feet and hands. 

You say you see no beauty in 
That blessed Christ that died for sin; 
Embrace the cross with all your heart 
And then from sin you will depart. 

If you will count all things but dross, 
And humbly cling upon the cross; 
It will help you through this world of strife 
Up to the courts of endless life. 



Home. 
That sweet word home, where affection dwells 
filled with shrines the heart hath builded. Home is 
not merely roof and room, what would it be to us 
without some one to cheer it and love us; "Home, 
sweet home." It is often murmured through our 
tears. How it is linked with our childhood days. The 



Life Sketches and Poems. 173 

purest feelings of our heart still cluster round our 
home. What a resting place, where weary thought 
may dream away its care. Even the liitle dove re- 
turns to the place from which she flew, and the mar- 
iner is very superstitious as he leaves his native land. 
He fancies he must have some omen to insure him that 
he will return. He loves home and mother, if he has 
one. Let him stand on the surf beaten coast of the At- 
lantic or roam over western wilds, and every dash of the 
wave and murmur of the breeze will whisper, "Home, 
sweet home." I think it is very dear to the seaman. 
When they rove through the green groves and over 
the sunny slopes of the south, it matters not how beau- 
tiful, you will hear them exclaim, "There is no place 
like home." 

I have heard them when they never dreamed that I 
was listening to them, and some of their sentences 
would send the life blood bounding through my veins 
and circle around like a spell. As rough and uncouth 
as they appeared, they would talk of their childhood 
homes till my eyes would till with tears. Some would 
not appear to know what a home was. That class 
you would find more hardened. You could soon pick 
those out that had been cultured by a mother; their 
sympathy was deeper, their deportment better. What 
a deep feeling I had for them. How I would have 
liked to teach them, if I could have been a missionary 



174 Life Sketches and Poems. 

to them in their idle hours, when they were not on 
duty. But my father would not allow me to speak to 
one of them, nor the}- to me. I was young, and father 
no doubt knew what was best for me. I remember 
one of those seamen that was naturally ver}', very 
wicked. I have heard \ery hard language from his 
lips, but he did not know that I was near him. In my 
presence he neyer wou'd speak a disrespectful word 
to his brother seamen. Our presence often gi\'es in- 
fluence. 

A few years since I heard a lecture from Dr. Tal- 
mage on "Home" that has always impressed me. I 
thought how beautifully he described that cit}- of our 
God. I have had so many of those illustrations. If 
we will encourage that inward intuition I think we 
could have more of those things re\'ealed to us. We 
certainly can have gifts given us that we never dreamed 
of. "Ask and ye shall receive" are the words of our 
dear Lord, and they are sure, if we ask for the things 
we need. 

This is what he said : "At the best state we are 
only pilgrims and strangers, Heaven is to be our 
eternal home. Death xaIII never knock at the door of 
that mansion, and in all that land there will not be a 
single grave. Aged parents rejoice very much when 
on Christmas day they have their children at home, 
but there is most always a son or a daughter absent. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 175 

absent from the country, perhaps absent from the 
world. But oh, our Heavenl}' Father will rejoice in 
the long thanksgiving day of heaven, when He has all 
His children with Him in glor}-. How glad brothers 
and sisters will be to meet after so long a separation. 
Perhaps a score of years ago they parted at the door 
of the tomb. Now they meet again at the door of im- 
mortality. Once they looked through a glass darkly, 
now, face to face; corruption — incorruption, mortality 
— immortality. Where now are all their sorrows, 
temptations and trials? Overwhelmed in the red sea 
of death, while they, dr}- sliod, march on to glory. 
Gates of jasper, capstone of amethyist, thrones, do- 
minions, do not so much affect my soul as the thought 
of home. Once there, let earthly sorrow howl like 
storms ard roll like seas. Home — let thrones rot and 
empires wither. Home — let the earth die in earth- 
quake struggles and be buried amid processions of 
planets and dirge of spheres. Home — let everlasting 
ages roll in irresistible sweep. Home — no sorrow, no 
•crying, no tears, no death, but '-Home, sweet home," 
beautiful home. 

One twihght, after I had been playing with the 
children for some time, I laid down on the lounge to 
rest. The children said, "Play more." Children al- 
ways want to play more, and half asleep and half 
awake I seamed to dream this dream. It seemed to 



176 Life Sketches and Poems. 

me I was in a far distant land — not Persia, although 
more than tropical fruitfulness filled the gardens; not 
Italy, although more than Italian softness filled the air, 
and I wandered around looking for thorns and nettles, 
but I found none of them fjrew there; and I walked 
forth and saw the sun rise, and I said, "When will it 
set again?" But the sun sank not. 

And I saw all the people in holiday apparel, and I 
said, "When will they put on working-men's garb, 
and delve in the mine and swelter at the forger" But 
neither the garment nor the robe did they put off. 

And I wandered in the suburbs, and I said, "Where 
do they bury the dead of this great city.'^" And I 
looked along by the hills where it would be most 
beautiful for the dead to sleep, and I saw castles and 
town and battlements, but not a mausoleum, not a 
monument or white slab could 1 see, and I went into 
the great chapel of the town and I said, "Where do 
the}^ worship? Where are the benches where the 
poor sit.''" and a voice answered, "We have no poor 
in this great city." 

And I wandered out, seeking to find the place 
where were the hovels of the destitute, and I foimd 
mansions of amber, ivory and gold, but no tears did I 
see or sighs hear. I was bewildered, and as I sat un- 
der the shadow of a great tree I said. "What am I, 
and whence? And whence comes all thi^?" And at 



Life Sketches and Poems. 177 

that moment there came from among the leaves, skip- 
ping up the flowery paths and across the sparkling 
waters, a bright and dazzling group. And when I 
savv their step I knew it; and when I heard their 
voices, I tliought I knew them, but their apparel was 
so different from anything I had ever seen that I 
bowed as a stranger to strangers, but when they 
clapped their hands and shouted ''Welcome, wel- 
come," the m3'Stery was solved, and then I knew that 
time had passed and eternity had come, and God had 
gathered us up into a higher home. And I said, "Are 
we all here?" And the voices of innumerable gen- 
erations answered, "All here." And while tears of 
gladness were raining down our cheeks, and the 
'branches of the Lebanon cedars were clapping their 
hands and the towers of the great city were chiming 
their welcome, we began to laugh, and sing, and leap, 
and shout, "Home, home, borne !" 

My dear readers, won't it be beautiful if all that is 
described here is true, of which I believe the half 
could never be told. We want to serve our Heav- 
enly Father with a pure love, and if we do we shall 
love our fellow creatures. I do not believe we were 
put here to die as the grass of the fields. That 
spirit that God breathed into man can never die. 

The old house will fall to the ground. 

But that spirit immortal will not in it be found. 



lyS Life Sketchks and Poems. 

There is no death; an ano-el form 

Walks o'er the eartli with silent tread, 

He bears our best loved things away, 
And then we call them dead. 

" Let not 3'our hearts be troubled," our blessed 
Saviour said, '' M}- Father's house has many man- 
sions and I go before you to prepare a place for you/' 
and when He spoke these words to his disciples. He 
spoke to all those who would love and serve the 
Father. Let us serve Him, and after we pass the 
portals, we shall then commence to grow, when we 
get rid of this house of clay that is ever holding the 
better part back, because it's earthly. We will see 
our little ones expanded from the bud to the full 
grown fiower. Longfellov/ says: 

" She is not dead, the child of our affection, 

But gone unto that school 
Where she no longer needs our poor protection, 

And Christ himself doth rule." 

That, dear reader, is my sentim.ent; I tirmiy believe 
we shall pass away to live again. We have to get 
our daily bread here, and in these financial distresses 
that are laid upon the poor, we have but little means 
to do with; but perhaps it will draw us nearer that 
bleeding side that died for us, and if it does. He has 
promised to make a way for our escape. But we 
must remember that faith without works is dead. So 



Life Sketches and Poems. 179 

we must open our eyes and try, and at the same time 
give our hearts to our Heavenly Father. 

It makes no difference how splendidly we build. 
So far as this world is concerned, our lives are a fail- 
ure, if we build not so we can go out into the great 
future, and make the harbor of eternal life. We are 
to live on; we are to live again. I beheve we are to 
live on without a break. Death is not an end, it is a 
new impulse. We are discharged out of this life, to 
go on, and on, until we are made perfect. 

God has put us here to make the world brighter, 
happier and better by our lives. Everv one should 
study how he could be a blessing to others. The 
world is after the best thing. We must show them 
that we have something better than they have. Let 
us cheer up the discouraged. If the love of God 
beats in warm pulsations in our hearts, how easy it 
will be to win souls to Christ. We must ask our 
Heavenly Father to help us to become pure in heart. 
No one can become a Christian without direct aid of 
the Holy Spirit. 

My dear readers, I suppose you will say this old 
lady has a vivid imagination. If you will stop one 
moment and think, what is life ? How soon we are 
to pass awav to be here no more. If we will put our 
trust in that Saviour who, died on the cross, that we 



i8o Life Sketches and Poems. 

might have eternal life, God will give us through his 
Son. if we ask in faith, believing on Him. 

If the world could know that repose, 
Which none but he that feels it knows; 
That heavenly calm within the breast. 
Who in their Saviour put their trust. 
Life is a battle to be fought inspired by high and 
honorable resolves. We must stand to our post, and 
know that we are doing our duty. Nothing looks 
plainer to me than Christ had to come into this world, 
suffer and die for us, that the prophet's words should 
not become false. What darkness must have covered 
the earth. We read, gross darkness had covered the 
minds of the people. The prophets had all been 
taken from the earth. There was no one left for 
God to speak through to his people, and Christ's 
time had not yet come, that He should be born. 

A grt-at darkness, political, moral and religious 
covered the chosen people among whom the Christ 
must be born, and they longed for a deliverer, who 
should ransom them from their slavery to Rome. 
They believed in the prophecies, and were looking 
for their fulfillment, and they were not to be disap- 
pointed. Redemption was nigh at hand. 



C/in'st''s Bh'th. 
Our Father in heaven had given command. 
And redemption was near at hand: 



Life Sketches and Poems. 



His people were filled with delight, 

Out of the darkness was coming i^reat liojht. 



& !r> 



Joseph and Mar}- were on their way 
To Bethlehem city, to be enrolled; 
That it might come to pass 
What the prophets foretold. 

God had spoken the word long before, 

They were coming to Bethlehem with rich and poor. 

They could not stay in Nazareth it was too obscure. 

We cannot help thinking it was a sin, 

For those people to say, " There is no room in the 

inn." 
Mary must have felt w^eak and forlorn. 
To retire to the stable where our Saviour was born. 

No doubt it caused Mary to weep, 

Sitting surrounded by oxen and sheep. 

But she knew^ the history of her little son, 

And could sa}-, "My Father, Thy will be done." 

It was night in the cit}^ all were at rest, 
Mothers and babes, beautifully dressed ; 
Out in a stable a baby there lay, 
Jesus of Nazareth upon the damp hay. 

The prophets foretold of a very high plan, 
That the angels in heaven should tell it to man. 

The angels came all glittering and bright; 
Told the shepherds who watched that night, 



i82 Life Sketches and Poems. 

That God's Son had His birth, 

And came to dwell with men on earth. 



My imagination is very vivid upon the Christ-child. 
I see that lovely babe whom God had sent from 
heaven, with no place to lay his head but upon the 
damp hay. And I see that beautiful star struggling 
against some angry clouds, as if determined to shut it 
out. But at that moment God sends a heavenly 
breeze; the thickening clouds are broken; the star 
seems to take heart. Brighter and brighter were its 
mild beams until it stood over that stable where the 
flower that was to bloom through tmie and eternity 
lay folded on its mother's breast. And He shall live, 
and to Him shall be given of the gold of Sheba. His 
name shall endure forever; blessed be His holy name 
forever; let the whole earth be filled with His glor3\ 

Religion is a Hfe of burden bearing. We must not 
fret at our crosses and they will be the lighter. We 
must bow before our trials as I have read the trav- 
elers do when overtaken in the desert by the dread- 
ful simoon. When that cry arises, striking teror into 
the boldest hearts, and the purple haze sweeps on, 
which to breathe is death, they make no attempt to 
fly. They throw themselves on the ground, every 
head is muffled, and low in the dust, trembling with 



Lii E Sketches and Poems. 183 

awful silence they lie, and let the poisonous wind blow 
over them. Hide thee in the dust is the voice of 
God. Let us build for eternity. A ship, however 
beautiful she may be, is not good for anything unless 
she can battle with the deep. 



Sfieak Kindly. 

Speak kindly in the morning. 
It lightens the care of the day, 

And makes the household happy, 
As they travel on life's weary way. 

Speak kindly at night, for it may be. 
Before the dawn of the day, 

That some one has finished the journey, 
And has traveled from you far away. 



Those beautiful lines came to me this morning be- 
fore I left my bed. I arose before six to write them 
down. I am anxious to finish my book. That is why 
an old lady rises early in the quiet of the morning, 
when nature is at rest. Then we have more power 
of the brain, and we are better prepared to get our 
work in for the day; and the first thing for me to re- 
member is, to speak kindly through the day. I think 
those Imes w^ere sent to me this beautiful morning, 
expressly for that purpose. My prayer through life 



184 Life Sketches and Poems. 

has been, that God would give me some blessing in 
my old age, that I might impart it to others. 

M}' nature is such that I cannot enjoy life by folding 
my hands. When I am very weak God answers my 
childhood prayers. He sends inspirations upon me 
that make me very happy, and I feel that my old age 
is more beautiful than my childhood, although in that 
stage of my life I never knew w^ant. Plenty crowned 
our board; but happiness does not consist in riches. 
It matters not how much we possess unless our heart 
is right before God there will be at times an aching 
void. We may revel in the depths of pleasure and 
think that we are happ}-. Idleness is not rest. The 
poor man with industry is happier than the rich man 
in indolence. Labor makes the one more manly, 
while riches unmans the other. The slave is often 
happier than his master, who is nearer undone by li- 
cense than his vassal is by toil. Luxurious couches, 
plushy carpets from oriental looms, pillows of eider 
down, carriages contrived with cushions and springs 
to make motion imperceptible — is the indolent master 
of these as happy as the slave w^ho w eaves the carpet, 
or the servant who drives the pampered steed? 

Let those who envy the gay revels of city idlers, 
who pine for their masquerades, their routs, and op- 
eras, experience for a w^eek the lassitude of their ex- 
istence, the unarousable torpor of their life when not 



Life Sketches and Poems. 185 

under a tier}- stimulus. If we would stop and think 
we would be quite contented with our sphere of life. 

These words come back again, "Speak kindly at all 
times." It encourages the downcast, cheers the sor- 
rowing, and very likely awakens the erring to earnest 
resolves to do better, with strength to keep them. 
Kind words are balm to the soul and they put mettle 
into our blood and carry us over some crises that if 
we had not had those kind words we would have sunk 
under our loads. 

There is little greatness that is worth the name that 
is not founded upon and accompanied by sound moral 
Christian principles. How unreliable are the require- 
ments of men if no religious principles give tone to 
their impulses. We should use good influence, that it 
may go on and on. There is nothing good and beau- 
tiful that ever dies and is forgotten. Dear readers, 
we will all speak kindly through this financial strife. 
Perhaps the dreaded is not so bad as we think. The 
Lord may sweeten the water before we stop to drink 
1S94. 



Lazarus Given Back to His Sisters. 

Our dear Saviour, while here among men. 
Blessed those that were tilled with despair, 

I can see Mary now as she waits on her Lord, 
And wipes His feet with her hair. 



i86 Life Sketches and Poems. 

Mary's brother lay sick unto death, 

It was Lazarus our Lord loved so well; 

Marv sent a message unto Him, 
This story she did tell. 

She said, dear Lord, come to us quick, 

He whom Thou lovest is verj- sick. 
But from he whom he loved He stayed long away, 

That God might be gloritied through Lazarus' 
mortal clay. 

When Jesus arrived at the edge of the town. 

There Martha met him with grief "bowed down. 

Then Martha aloud to her Lord did cry. 

Dear Lord, if Thou had been here, my brother 
would not have died. 

Martha had great faith in her Lord of love, 

She said, whatever Thou asketh 
Th}^ Father will grant from above. 

I am the resurrection, if on Me ye will believe, 
Though he be dead, yet shall he live; 

Then Martha went, her sister to see. 

Saying, the Master has come and calleth for thee. 

And soon as Mary heard what her sister said. 
She rose up quickly and came to her Lord. 

The Jews who came from afar. 

Arose up quickly and followed her there. 

Then Mary, as Martha cried, 

O Lord, if thou had been here, 
My brother would not have died; 

And when He saw them weeping. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 187 

Knowing that death into their home had crept, 
He groaned in spirit, and was troubled. Jesus 
wept. 

The stone from the tomb has been rolled away, 

i\nd Jesus stands before Lazarus' clay; 
Then He calls on His Father to give strength to 
His Son, 
That the people might see that these three are 
one. 

When unto Lazarus He cries, "Come forth," 
Out of his bed of clay he has new birth. 

Lazarus' spirit strives. 

Strength returns and hope revives. 

Four days in the tomb; 

Now he stands in mortal bloom. 
Christ says, " Loose him, let him go," 

To the world God's power he'll show. 



How those two sisters must have thanked the Mas- 
ter for their brother's life! It is not to be wondered 
at that Mary washed His feet with her tears, and 
wiped them with the hair of her head when she 
knew what her Lord had done for her brother. The 
miracles of our Saviour were never wrought in an 
ostentatious way. Never were they wrought for the 
purpose of exalting Himself. Multitudes resorted to 
Him for help. His miracles were like general acts of 



i88 Life Sketches and Poems. 

kindness. As they are laid down in the gospel they 
represent the heart of God. 

There is a singular sweetness in our Lord's words. 
He had comfort and cheer for all who came to Him. 
He is the same to-day. He never changes. If we 
will look away from ourselves He is ever present to 
help. He says, "As one whom a mother comforteth 
so will 1 comfort you." 



The Emfty Tomb. 

Ye seek 3'our Lord? He is not here. Behold 
The place where our Lord lay. That sepulcher 
Shines with a light brighter than the sun. 
The Prince of Peace lay in that tomb. 

Our Lord is risen to light our path, 
And lead us up to heaven. 
If w^e repent and believe on him 
We may all have our sins forgiven. 

He tarried with those that loved him, forty days, 
He instructs them pertaining to God and the 

kincjdom. 
At last the time comes that He must depart, 
To send what was promised to every heart. 
To fit them to dwell in His kingdom. 

He journeyed with them toward Bethany. 
He checks their anxious fear; 
He bids them wait in the Holy City, 
Till the Comforter should appear. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 189 

That would fill their souls with wisdom 
To reach the hearts of men, 
That He might reign triumphant 
Over death and sin. 

He lifts His hands and blesses them, 

And in that ver}' act, 

A beautiful cloud comes down from the skies 

And carries our Saviour back. 

That cloud still rolls between us 
And our dear Lord. 
Prayer can rise above it, 
According to His word. 

His blessing can drop through it, 
Like the gentle, refreshing rain 
Upon the thirsty soil of our hearts. 
And help us His cause to maintain. 

Though He has gone away from us, 

Still He is very near; 

His holy spirit He sends to us. 

It takes away our fear; 

And now the Christian church 
Is waiting for the time when the 
Promise of the angel will make 
All things sublime. 



Know Thyself. 
When gentle twilight sits 

On day's forsaken throne, 
'Mid the sweet hush of eventide, 

Muse by thyself alone, 



iga Llfe Ske-tches and Poems. 

And at the time of rest, 
Ere sleep asserts its power 

Hold pleasant converse with thyself 
In meditation's bovver. 

Motives and deeds review 

By memory's truthful glass, 
Thy silent self the only judge 

And critic, as they pass. 
And if thy wayward face 

Should give thy consience pain 
Resolve wath energy divine 

Thj' victory to gain. 

When morning's earliest rays 

O'er spire and rooftree fall. 
Gladly invite thy waking heart 

Into a festival 
Of smiles and love to all, 

The lowliest and the least. 
And of delighted praise to Him; 

The giver of the feast. 

Not on the outer world 

For inward joy depend; 
Enjoy the luxury of thought, 

Make thine own self thy friend. 
Not with the restless thronj; 

In search of solace roam; 
But with an independent zeal 

Be intimate at home. 

Good company have they 
Who by themselves do walk 



Life Sketches and Poems. igi 

n they have learned of blessed themes 

With their own souls to talk, 
For they shall never feel 

Of dull ennui the power; 
Not penury of lowliness 

Shall haunt their hall or bower. 

Drink water from the fount 

That in thy bosom springs, 
And envy not the mingled draught 

Of satraps or of kings. 
So shalt thou find at last 

Far from the giddy brain. 
Self knowledge and self culture lead 

To incomputed gain. 

— Mrs. SigouDiey. 

I w^ell remember the feelings I had when my father 
sold his interest in that island, which if he had kept, 
would have been worth thousands. I often sigh for 
those by-gone days. After thirty years I visited that 
island. O, what a change. I went inquiring after 
those little fisher girls, but not one could I find. 

At the close of my rambles, I returned to the hotel 
and laid down to rest. A thought came over me that 
the landlady looked very familiar. Half asleep I 
arose and inquired, and a few moments later we were 
in each others' arms. She was one of those little 
fisher girls. She had a fintj home. They kept a 
large hotel. It was a lovely resort. People from 



192 Life Sketches and Poems. 

New York and Boston, and several from the west, 
were stopping there at that time. That fisher girl 
made a noble hostess. She devoted several hours 
every day to her guests. She knew how to fill her 
position, and she knew how well I loved flowers when 
we roamed over the island together. How far we 
would go to pick a posy, as we would call our bou- 
quets. She seemed to take delight in dressing my 
room in garlands of flowers, and she would say, 
''Wh}' not liave some elegance, even in the humblest 
home. I know you remember me as one of those 
littie fisher girls, but you could not say one of those 
dirty ones." 

Good manners consist in courteousness and kind- 
ness. Politeness has been described as the art of 
showing by external signs the interior regard we have 
for others. It has been well said that a beautiful form 
is more beautiful than a beautiful face, and a beautiful 
behavior is better than a beautiful form. It gives a 
higher pleasure than statues or pictures. It is the 
finest of the fine arts. The truest politeness comes of 
sincerity. It must be the out-come of the heart, or it 
will not make a lasting impression. For no amount 
of po'ish can dispense with truthfulness. The natural 
character must be allowed to appear. True polite- 
ness especially exhibits itself in regard for the per- 
sonality of others, if he wishes to be respected himself. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 193 

Good taste is a true economist. It may be practical 
on small means, and sweeten the lot of labor as well 
as of ease. It is all the more enjoyed when associated 
with industry and the performance of duty. Even 
the lot of poverty is elevated by taste. It exhibits it- 
self in the economics of the household. It tjives 
brightness and grace to ihe humblest dwelling. It 
produces refinement. It engenders good will, and 
creates an atmosphere of cheerfulness. Thus good 
taste, associated with kindness, sympathy and intelli- 
gence, may elevate and adorn even the humblest lot. 

Thirty years had made a great change in that is- 
land. Where we used to play in the valley, were 
beautiful buildings. The work of art had taken the 
place of nature. Where the fishermen's flakes stood, 
where they dried their fish for market, stood a large 
shipyard. Where smokehouses stood in which they 
smoked their herring, that they brought from- the 
Magdalen Islands, were large stores and storehouses. 
Instead of sailboats to carry you to the island, a beau- 
tiful steamer plied three times each day. That was 
equal to living on the main land. It is also a great re- 
sort for fishing. Beautiful fish are caught all around 
those islands. 

The old settlers that first inhabited those islands had 
a legend that they have told to me. They said, once 
upon a time those islands were called Fox Islands. 



194 Life Sketches and Poems. 

Why that name, the ishir^d was infested with foxes. 
There are a great many dens in the mountains that 
would be a fine retreat for them. They could not 
keep small stock or poultry, as the foxes were sure to 
have the first meal out of all their substance. The 
island was so situated that they could not have any re- 
venge. The si}' fox was perfectly contented, he knew 
he was safe. They said there came a very cold win- 
ter, that froze the bay over so strong that the foxes 
left the island and never one has been seen there 
since. Several have told me the tracks in the snow 
were like large flocks of sheep, w^here they w^ent down 
onto the ice. It was ten miles from one point to the 
other on the main land. I thought the foxes knew 
they were surrounded by water, and left. 

I went back again in memor}' to the time we played 
on the top of those mountains. We would sit and 
watch the gliding sun as it sank in the west. There 
were several small islands, some large enough for 
small farms, that the fishermen occupied, and others 
would be tiny islands, that the sea would almost 
wash over. Now they have thrown in rock from the 
quarries, and made bridges to most of those islands. 

I went to that island to recuperate my health, which 
had failed under a strain of great care. I was through 
with that care, but ver}^ lonely, as my sons had gone 
out to begin the battle of life. I could not follow 



Life Sketches and Poems. 195 

them. I knew I must stay and attend to what little 
interest I had. I must fight my battles alone, and 
would sit and think of the movmtains of sin that they 
would have to pass through, with no mother's hand to 
guide and advise them. 

My heart would be full of emotion when it awoke 
to the pulse of the past. I would sit on those lone 
rocks by the ocean, and think hov,' my little ones 
would gather around me to bid me good night and be 
kissed. It seemed but a day since I could put them 
in their little beds. But time had passed, they had 
grown to manhood, and were through with their 
trades, and were back again in the wild west. When 
I stopped to think about them. Oh, my heart was a 
dungeon of darkness. Oh, mothers, you must remem- 
ber when 3'ou can have that good night kiss with 
those little ones around you, and see your darlings in 
their little beds; then you are happy. 

I never realized what it was to be alone. When I 
lost my husband, then I had my children But when 
they went, one by one, till the last had flown, then I 
knew what it was to be alone, with poor health, and I 
almost gave way in despair. Then I would think 
how unthankful I was. God had been with me in my 
days of trial, and I knew he would be the same in my 
lonely hours. It was doubly unpleasant. I was pass- 
ing over ground every day that I had passed over by 



196 Life Sketches and Poems. 

my father's side. Where are they now? All gone, 
not even one that I could call my own dear friend. 
Father, mother, brothers, sisters, all gone. That 
cruel war had broken up our family. If there was 
one alive I knew it not. Neither could I hear any 
tidings from them. It was a great mystery that 
could not bef solved. I knew that I should leave that 
island in the autumn to cross the threshold no more. 
And how^ I shall sigh fnr my dear ones that will meet 
me no more at the door; and I would sit and watch 
the waves, 

Out on the ocean's level plain, 
It lifts and swells to the shore again; 
Sometimes they'll break almost to the sky. 
Then they'll roll on the rocks so high. 

To see those blue waters, so bleak and cold, 
And all of creation its power can't control; 
How great is that Father, and with what com- 
mand 
He dotteth the ocean with dry land; 
And the bounds of the sea He holds in His hand. 

I would often go down to see the sun rise 
Out of the ocean's silver bed 
It lifts the crest of a golden head. 
Its yellow locks are spread and curled 
Over the shoulders of the world. 

After a storm I would go down to the clefts where 
I used to sit in childhood's days. The cool sea breeze 



Life Sketches and Poems. 197 

would fan my brow, and murmuring waves held me 
with a strong fascination. There was a plaintive, rol- 
ling, rumbling sound in the pebbles, which accorded 
with thoughts of by-gone days. The music of the peb- 
bles on the low shelving rocks was alluring. It was 
pitched in a minor key that found a mournful echo in 
my heart. The eternal surge of time and tide rolls on, 
bearing afar our bubbles. Let us prize all the light 
from God and man, so that we may be guided aright. 

When life's deep stream 'mid beds of fiowers 

All still and safely glides. 
Like the wavelets step, with a gentle beat. 

It warns of passing tides. 

The sunny days of summer had passed away, and 
the old blue Atlantic was losing its charms. It had 
fascinated many through the warm summer months. 
In the morning it would be very chilly, and we would 
need our wraps; then again, in the middle of the day 
it would be delightful. 

I knew I must soon leave this grand scenery, with 
its beautiful islands, mountains, coasts, and strand; the 
home of my childhood, my 'own native land. I must 
face once more the realities of life, for I was not rich 
enough to enjoy the splendor of ease, neither did I 
wish to be. Life had too far advanced. I had rather 
lay up my treasures where moth and rust do not cor- 
rupt. I knew at my age that would be far better, 



igS Life Sketches and Poems. 

and as I would have to spend the most of m}' time 
alone, I would have that holy spirit to trust as I ever 
had done. If we can onh- hold that childlike faith, it 
will buoy us up above those few afflictions we have 
to pass through. 

One morning in October I arose, and bid every- 
thing adieu for the last time. I well knew 1 should 
never return to these dear scenes again, and I bid the 
dear old blue Atlantic goodbye forever. I was 
almost cradled on its bosom, and I loved its bounding 
tide. 

I took a boat for Boston, for in those davs trains 
were few and did not make good connections. In 
Boston I took a west bound train, and in three days 
was set down at my own door. Home again. It 
was not a grand home, but it was home. " Be it 
ever so humble, there is no place like home." I had 
not been in that home for several years. 

When we left it, my sons were young, and full of 
boyish sports. I had no time to be lonesome. 

Whenever we step out of domestic life in search of 
felicity, we comt' back again disappointed, tired and 
chagrined. One day passed under our own roof, 
Avith our family and friends, is worth a thousand in 
another place; but home alone is not pleasant. 

While from home I had left my business in care of 
D. L. Libbey, one of the noblest and wealthiest men 



Life Sketches and Poems. igg 

of Oshkosh. My tongue is not eloquent enough to 
speak what my heart feels in regard to a true friend. 
After m}' husband's death I had no one to advise me. 
He came to my rescue; he advised my sons, told me 
where to go to get positions for them, and helped me 
financially to start, and for twenty-live years has looked 
after my interests. I will ever remember him and his 
in my prayers. 

Oshkosh is a fine little city. It is situated between 
Lake Butte des Nottes and LakeWinnebago,on the Fox 
river. It is a busy little city of twenty-five thousand. 
The population was onh^ twenty-five hundred in '6^, 
the year that I came to that place. 

It will ever seem like home to me. I have passed 
over twenty years in that place. I can say that the 
most of my trouble that I have had in my fife has been 
in that city. Sometimes I think trouble endears us to 
the spot where it comes upon us. It teaches us that 
this world is not our abiding place; that we must seek 
that city whose builder and maker is God. Oshkosh 
would be my home the remainder of my life, if it 
were not for remaining with my children in my old 
age, and their interests are not in that city. 

I was once very much endeared to the Methodist 
church of that place. That little church on Church 
street really seemed like home to me. There was 
more religion and less popularity. They were loved 



200 Life Sketches and Poems. 

of God instead of men. I remember one ^-ear we 
had a series of meetings that continued six weeks, 
five days in a week, and I never lost but one day in 
that time that I did not go. Those meetings served 
to draw people together to love and serve God. 

The Church ought to be the leader, the inspirer of 
the age. It is foll}^ for us to be discussing did issues, 
when all about us are iniquities to be slain. Some will 
ask why not do away with the churches, if its mem- 
bers make so many mistakes? Would you take away 
the light-house because careless mariners, through 
wrong observations, run their ships high and dry up- 
on the shore? It is the privilege of us, my dear read- 
ers, to live more in the future than we do in the pres- 
ent. John Wesley is a thousand-fold greater to-day 
than he was when he was living. He lives in the 
lives of his followers. 

God has not changed. The same stars that looked 
down upon the Chaldean shepherds, look upon us at 
this age, and they still look and point us to the manger 
where our dear Saviour lay. 

How often, on those beautiful, starlight nights, 
when I have been sitting on the quarter deck of the 
ship, have I mused on the stars, and when I would see 
a beautiful star, in my mind I would ask, is not that 
the star by which the ships of Tarshish were guided 
across the Mediterranaen. when the Venitian flotilla 



Life Sketches and Poems. 201 

found its Wily into Lepanto? Their armor shone as 
bright that night as in those by- gone days. They 
have not changed, but they shall not shine fore\'er. 
The Bible tells us they shall fall like autumn leaves. 

I think it is beautiful to hold communion with your- 
self and your little guide that is trying to inspire your 
soul. You may call it conscience. I call it that spirit 
that Christ promised to us that would lead us into 
truth if we would be admonished by it. We have on- 
ly got to hear and obey its soft, sweet voice, and we 
shall never do wrong. We shall not have to look 
over our shoulder to see if an officer of the law is on 
track. When we lie down at night, our sleep is 
sw^eet, and when we are called to pass by the haunts 
of vice, if we hear to that still, small voice, it wdll tell 
you the lower nature must be denied. If you hear to 
that small voice it shows you are trying to reach a 
higher sphere. It is not necessary to be self-denying 
to be a Christian. It only gives us a distinction above 
the brute; it makes us honest and cheerful, ever 
ready to do good. I believe heaven to be the place 
of victory; this is the battlefield. You will see there 
that triumphant procession which has conquered those 
bad habits while in the flesh. They will get a rich 
reward for every victory. 

Idleness is not rest. We want to fight and conquer 
sin as much as our means will admit. It is a work 



202 Life Sketches and Poems. 

that is unceasing and not all easy, any more than it is 
to get weeds out of our flower gardens. They are 
continually coming up. We must dig down deep and 
get the root, then we are all right. We shall not al- 
ways have to dig. If we keep th.ose roots out it will 
soon be said, "Well done, thou good and faithful serv- 
ant, enter thou into the joys of th}- Lord." We ought 
not to look upon death as we do; Christ is the master 
of the grave. Just outside of the city of Nain, Christ 
overcame death. When he told the yoimg man to 
arise, then death dropped. How that mother must 
have loved her Lord. She never expected to hear 
her son speak again, neither did she ever think she 
would receive a kiss from his lips. How the tears 
started. How her heart throbbed as she pressed him 
in her arms, saying, "My son, Oh. my son!" 

What would we think if we had that privilege ? 
And I think we have the same if we will heed that 
still, small voice. What was it that led Columbus, not 
knowing what would be his fate, across the unsailed 
western seas, if it was not the hope of finding a better 
country? That same faith sustained the Pilgrim 
Fathers, driven from their native land by persecution, 
as they faced the rock-bound, savage coast and an un- 
explored territory. They were cheered and upheld 
by the hope of reaching a free and fruitful country, 
where th^y could be at rest and worship God in peace. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 203 

God had taught them to come by intuition and they 
entered on a greater task than Gideon, when he par- 
alyzed his enemies. They had a great work to do. 
The roll is being called, and one after another is sum- 
moned away. It matters not, if thev are ready. We 
know we shall see them bye and bye. We shall see 
them in the morn, when the night has worn away. 

During the late war, a young man lay on a cot, and 
they heard him say, "Here, here," and some one 
went to his cot to know what he wanted, when he 
said, " Hark, hush, don't 3"ou hear them?" "Hear 
who?" was asked. "They are calling the roll in 
heaven," and pretty soon he answered, "Here," and 
he was gone. Oh, what a change for that 3'oung man. 
He had laid down his gun and knapsack. Nothing 
could match that change. How beautiful it must have 
been to him, after toiling' in the warm southern sun, 
to hear that roll called to come up higher and change 
the uniform for a robe of splendor that would dazzle 
the sun. 



There is no Death. 

There is no death. The stars go down 
To rise upon some fairer shore. 

And bright in heaven's jeweled crown 
They shine for evermore. 



204 Life Sketches and Poems. 

There is no death. The dust we tread 

Shall change beneath the summer showers 

To golden grain or mellow fruit, 
Or rainbow-tinted flower. 

The granites disorganize 

To feed the hungry- they bear; 

The forest leaves drink dail}- life 
From out the viewless air. 

There is no death. The leaves ma}- fall. 
The flowers may fade and pass away; 

They only wait through wintr}' hours, 
The coming of the May. 

There is no death. An angel form 

Walks o'er the earth with silent tread; 
He bears our best loved things away, 

And then w^e call them dead. 
He leaves our hearts all desolate; 

He plucks our fairest, sweetest flowers; 
Transplanted into bliss they now 

Adorn immortal bowers. 
The bird-like voice, with joyous tones, 

Made glad these scenes of sin and strife; 
Sings now an everlasting song 

Amid the tree of life. 
And where he sees a smile too bright, 

Or hearts too pure for vice, 
He bears it to that world of light, 

To dwell in Paradise. 
Born unto that undying life, 

They leave us but to come again; 



Life Sketches and Poems. 205 

With joy we welcome them, the same 

Except in sin and pain. 
And ever near us, though unseen, 

The dear immortal spirits tread; 
For all the boundless universe 

Is life — there is no dead. 

— Btihucr Lytton. 



According to the Scriptures, we shall have a per- 
fect body of beauty, and enjoy a perpetual youth. 
Why are we so loath to leave this house of clay 
when w^e know we have a home awaiting us above 
the stormy sky? We look around; the world is full 
of suffering; we are distressed b}- its sorrow and vexed 
by its sins. In the language of a heart repelled, 
grieved and vexed, we often turn our eyes upward, 
saying, "I would not live alway." No, not for all the 
gold of the world's mmes. There is no beauty like 
that of a pure character. The grandest sight on 
earth is not the marcii of the all-conquering storm, 
whose cloudy battalions go marching through the 
sounding heavens. The beauty of the soul is far 
above any earthly grandeur. When it lies in its secret 
chambers, rich and deep, with its holy, loving nature, 
no earthly thing can compare with that. 
That spirit will protect us, 

Down from heaven it came, 
And it still will point us upward 

Until we reach the same. 



2o6 Life Sketches and Poems. 

Government of Children. 
There were many ideas entertained by the Puritan 
settlers of New England, that happily, were not be- 
queathed to those who came after them. But in fix- 
ing proper relations it would have been better to have 
preserved some of the inflexibility of discipline that 
distinguished them. The 3'outh of the present age 
have their own way too much. No obedience or re- 
spect is exacted from them by father or mother in 
many instances. They grow up selfish and over- 
bearing. If they are permitted to have their own 
way they will soon be full of petty tyranny. Children 
need checks, direction and good influences. A well 
governed child is, in the great majority, sure to grow 
into a respectable man or woman, but the noblest 
nature may be blighted unless the weeds of untrained 
propensity are kept down. Many observers recom- 
mend a wise neglect. Not too much inquiry, but a 
judicious surrounding of the best influence. Then let 
your young plants grow up. Yes, but it should be a 
very wise neglect; a neglect which is always on the 
watch lest some insidious parasite, some unnoticed 
but strong bias of character, take possession of the 
child and ruin him. I think firm kindness will do a 
great deal for our children. I know that no two fam- 
ilies are constituted alike, not even two in one family. 
You may not win your child over at the present 



Life Sketches and Poems. 207 

time, but try again. Let one kindness be followed 
by another till you have compassed your end. By 
little and by little great things are completed. Water 
falling day by day wears the hardest rock away, and 
so repeated kindness will soften a heart of stone. A 
boy that is whipped at school never learns his lesson 
well. We must be patient. Let one of our loved 
ones be taken away, and memory recalls a thousand 
sayings to regret. 

A boy is a boy, and a boy let him be, 

For the life of boyhood is a span. 
And the heart that now leaps with its joy and its 
glee, 
Must ache with the cares of a man. 

Our example goes far; let us throw away strife as 
we travel along tow'ard our home. If we set the 
right example while here in this life our children will 
not far from it roam. 



Love's Fidelitx. 

The hand of Time, beloved one, 

Hath pressed upon thy brow. 
And one by one thy beauties 

Fast fading from thee now; 
Yet love's own treasure, pure and grand, 

Are still within thy heart; 
These precious jewels, hope and faith. 

Time cannot make depart. 



2o8 LiFK Sketches and Poems. 

Thy voice, which around me cast 

A deep, mysterious spell, 
As its pure tones upon my soul 

In silver accents fell. 
Hath now, alas, grown faint and low, 

Yet, still to me it seems 
As if it were the counterpart 

Of some I have heard in dreams. 

Oh, what cares love for signs of age, 

It brings me no regret; 
Those that I loved in early days, 

I love them dearer yet. 
And thoufi!;h the friend we love mav change, 

Grow callous, harsh and cold, 
Yet love, pure love, will keep the heart 

From ever growing old. 
And my fond soul prays but for this. 

That when we fade and die. 
That angels may attend our path, 

Triumphant to the sky. 



Tides of Eternity. 
A gentleman wandering on the beach of Scotland, 
where the high rocks came near the sea, was unmind- 
ful of the fact that the tide was coming that would 
cut off his retreat. A man on the top of the rocks 
shouted. ''Hello, the tide is rising; this is the last place 
through which you can make your escape. You had 
better climb up on to the rocks." The man laughed 



Life Sketches and Poems. 209 

at the warniiii;-, aiul went on. After a wliile he thought 
it was time to return. He came back and fotind his 
retreat cut off. lie tried to scale the rocks. He 
clambeied half-way up, but could get no further. 
The water came to his feet, came to his waist, came 
to his chin, and with a wild shriek for help, he per- 
ished. 

Mv dear friends, the tide of eternity is rising: we 
must try and get on to that rock of ages. Then the 
storms may beat, we shall be safe. 

There is only one^loor into heaven. , That door is 
faith, but we must remember that faith without works 
is dead. 

The liible is a warm letter of affection from a pa- 
rent to a child, 3'et there are many who see chiefly the 
seven r passages, as there luay be fifty or sixtv nights 
of gentle dew in one summer, that will not cause so 
many remarks as one hail storm. 

John says in the book of Revelations. "God is a 
lion,*' but tiie who'e Bible declares God to be a God 
of love. He sent His son to die for us. and "No man 
hath greater lo\e than to lay down his life for his 
friend."' Enoch was a friend of God, and God said to 
him, ''Come up here and walk with me." It is sweet 
to walk with God. Enoch found tlie I'ight way back 
there in that dim age. We can walk with Him 
through His holv spirit, -.wm^ know He is a true friend. 



2IO Life Sketches and Poems. 

Tliat evil spirit that inliabits our mortal body tells us 
that God is not lo\e. It will say, "Why does he pun- 
ish us if he loxes us." He is a God of love, that is 
whv he will not suffer wickedness in us. And if it is 
needful to purge wickedness out from us by exquisite 
pains. He will emplo}- the pains to purge it out, that 
He may wash all our dross, that we may be with Him. 

We are so apt to forget Him when we think there 
is no danger around us; but let the heavens become 
black with threatening clouds, and we see a cyclone. 
We are sure* it is approaching". The thunder will 
peal and lightning flash; what a dread comes over us. 
Then we will look to our God. and think we will do 
better. But the clouds pass awa}', the storm is gone, 
and the light floods the landscape. Then how soon 
we forget. Hut God's tender nature is upon us the 
same as in the storm. If we can reallv make a person 
belie\'e that we love them, we have won them. Many 
have a false idea about God. It is because they have 
no faith in His love. Whatever conception you ha\e, 
be it right or wrong, do not let it be forgotten that 
God is love, unchangeable, e\erlasting. 

The flowers that spangle the meadows, as well as 
the stars that spangle the sky; the lamp of tlie glow- 
worm, as well as the light of the sun; the lark tliat 
sings in the air, and the still, small voice of conscience, 



Life Sketches and Poems. 211 

all rex't-al God's attributes, and proclaim Him to be a 
God of lo\e. 

Lo\e us, dear Lord, mid pleasure and woe. 

For heaven our spirits prepare; 
May we lo\e each other while here below, 
That we may dwell in lo^•e o^•er there. 



P radical J f 'isdo/u. 

Practical wisdom is only to be learned in the school 
of experience. I^^ecepts and instructions are useful as 
far as they go, but without the discipline of real life, 
thev remain the nature of theory onlv. The hard 
facts of existence ha\e to be faced to i;"i\e that touch 
of truth to character which ne\er can be imparted by 
reading or by tuition; only by contact with the broad 
interest of common men and women can any one who 
would, profit b}- experience; will ne\er be above ask- 
ing help. lie who thinks himself already too wise to 
learn of others, will never succeed in doing anything 
good or great. 

The whole of mv life to me may be regarded as a 
great school of experience. To me. many of my les- 
sons were taken on trust. Many was the time tliat I 
could not understand them, and would think it \ ery 
hard that I had to learn them, especially when the 
teachers were trials, sorrows, temptations and ditlicul- 



212 Life Skktchhs and Pokms. 

ties; and yet, we must not onl}' accept these lessons, 
but recognize them as being divineh' appointed. The 
results of experience are only to be achiexed Ijv living, 
and living is a question of lime. 

To the young, how brigiit the new world looks. 
How full of novelty, of enjoyment, and pleasure. 
But as years pass, we Hnd the beautiful world a place 
of sorrow as well as jo\'. As we proceed through 
life, manx' dark \istas appear to us, of toil and suffer- 
ing, and difficult\-, perhaps misfortune and failure. 
Happv are the\' who can pass through, amidst such 
trials, with a firm mind and a pure heart, encountering 
trials with cheerfulness and standing erect, even under 
the heaviest burden. 

I know, in sickness and sorrow, n(jne are braver 
and less complaining sufferers than women. Their 
courage, when their hearts are concerned, is indeed 
proverbial. Experience has proved that women can 
be as enduring as men, under the hea\-iest trials and 
calamities. 

But too little jiains are taken to teach them to en- 
dure pett\' terrors and frivolous vexations with forti- 
tude. Such little miseries, if petted and indulgeci, 
quickly runs into sicklv sensibility, and become the 
bane of their life, keeping themselves and those around 
them in a state of chronic discomfort. Women have 
not onh' distinguisiied tliemsrlves for their passive 



LlFK S'kHTCMES AM) PoKMS. 213 

courat^e, but impelled b\- their affection or the sense 
of dut\". thex ha\e become heroic. 

The home is the woman's kinodom, her state, her 
world, where she o-o\erns In- affection. b\- kindness, 
and by the power of gentleness. There is nothing 
that so settles the turbulence of a man's nature as his 
union in life with a high-minded v\oman. ^i'here he 
llnds rest, contentment and happiness, rest of brain 
and peace of spirit. lie will also find ii] her his best 
counsellor, for her instincti\e tact \vill usually lead him 
right: he will not be apt to go wrong. The true wife 
is a staff to lean upon in time of difficulty, and she is 
ne\er wanting in sympatln' and solace when distress 
occurs or misfortune frowns, and in the time of her 
■\outh she is a comfort and an ornament of many lives 
and she remains a faithful helpmate in maturer years, 
when life has ceased to be in anticipation and we live 
in its realities. The irreatest blessing that God can 
confer on man is the possession of a good and pious 
wife, with whom he may lixe in peace and ti-anquility : 
to whoiu he may confide his whole possession, even 
his life and welfare. I do not think a woman's best 
qualities reside in her intellect, but in her affections. 
She gives refreshment by her s^-mpathies, rather than 
by her knowledge. If the husband has provided a 
home, the wife's duty is to beautif}' that home as 
much as it lays in her power to do. She should culti- 



214 Life Sketches and Poems. 

vate taste and retlnenient, and she should be pleasing 
to his eye and taste. 

As I write these pages mv mind has passed back to 
one of tiiose unhappy homes withi-n my knowledge. 
The ycnmg gentleman was of good parentage, and 
had a small fortune. He married the lady of his 
ciioice and for a few months was happy, liis business 
would often take him awa}" from home. His wife 
loyed society and would often, in her husband's ab- 
sence, giye large parties. Siie had too much to think 
about. Her heart grew cold toward her husband. 
She took a life of excitement, instead of a life of re- 
pose. b\" liis side. 

Her husband saw the change: he tried to soften 
her affections toward him. He eyen took her across 
the sea to the old world. He took that yoyage to re- 
lease her from society, foi" siie was its slave, and she 
was charmed b\- the old world, as she had been by 
her spangled friends. When she returned liome she 
was luore anxious than e\er t(j meet her gaudy friends. 
VVlien he saw the result he was a' heart-broken and 
down-cast man. 

About that time his mother came to their rescue. 
She said the wife was flighty and son sensitiye. She 
told him he was disappointed in his marriage because 
he had expected too much from his wife; that he must 
not lose his cheerfulness, kindness, forbearance and 



Lii K Sketchks and Poems. 215 

common sense. Slie told liiui his imagination had 
perhaps pictured a model never to he seen this side of 
heaven, and when the real life came with its troubles 
and cares, there was a sudden waking, as from a 
dream, or they may look on bo,h sides for somethino- 
approachint-- perfection in each other, and they discov- 
er by experience that the fairest character has its 
weakness. I'he golden rule of life is to bear and for- 
bear. 

That mother taught them both a lesson that turned 
the tide in their life, and they became very happy. I 
should advise young wives never to let society get 
between them and their husbands. 

The fairest home, it is not placed 
In scenes with outward beauty graced. 
But where kind words and smiles impart 
A constant sunshine to the heart. 

On such a home of peace and love 
God showers his blessings from above. 
And angels watching o'er it cry, 
"So this is like our home on high." 



T/ic Pozvcr of Iii-fliieiicc. 

Influence is the power we exert over others by our 

,thoughts, words and actions. It is a high and solemn 

thought for every individual to think the sentiments 

we express must go on through ages; that influence 



2i6 LiiK Sketches and Poems. 

never die.s. We can mould the destiny of ages. How 
careful we should be in word, thought and deed, as 
the\' go out from us e\er\' hour, and e\ery moment, 
and the might \ marvels the}' have wrought will seal 
our destinv. In our hearts we know not, and may 
never know, until we are biought to answer for that 
influence for good or evil, to give us joy and peace, or 
to banish us from His holy presence with ignominy 
and shame. I belie\-e life to be mostly what we make 
it, and we luav, by our blindness, live in a world of 
darkness and gloom, or, in a world of sunshine and 
beautv. for the world without onlv reflects the world 
within. We must strive: nothing fails of its end. If 
we try to keep a cheerful countenance and a clear con- 
science bv cultivating these, it makes a happ}- nature 
within us, and we will soon find that we can bear our 
burdens without repining, or fretting, or wasting our 
energies in useless lamentations, but struggling along, 
gathering up such tlowers as lie along our path. 

The worst of all are the grumblers and growlers, 
those that will find e\'er^'thing to be out of place, but 
never will do anything to set matters right. These 
grumblers are in\ariablv found to be the least efficient 
helpers in tiie school of life. 

There is such a thing as cherishing discontent until 
the feelings become morbid. According to a story I 
have heard told, it must be admitted that there are 



Li 11-: SKiiicHiis and Poicms. 217 

cases beyond the moralist: Once, a miserable look- 
ing dyspeptic called upon a leading physician and laid 
his case before him. '-Oh," said the doctor, '• you 
only want a good heart\- laugh: go and see Grimaldi."' 
■'Alas,"' said the patient. "I am Grimaldi." 

That doctor must ha\e been batlled to ha\'e pre- 
scribed for that man after that interview. 1 know we 
must make allowance for dyspeptics, and in those cases 
we must try to render aid and make their li\'es 
as agreeable as we possibly can. Our manners, 
to a certain extent, indicate our character. Grace of 
manner is inspired by sentiment, which is a source of 
no slight enjo\'ment to a culti\ated mind. 

S\mpathy is the golden key that unlocks the hearts 
of others, and it nia\- almost be regarded as the crow n- 
ing grace of humanit\'. Artificial politeness is of \ery 
little use. What often passes by the name of etiquette 
is often the essence of impoliteness and untruthfulness. 
Let us ne^•er saw -'Not at home." to cause our ser- 
yant to represent us falseiv. That is the influence 
that o-oes on and on; we must meet it in eternit\'. 
Let us be true to ourselves and others. I think in 
order to ha^■e true politeness we should have respect 
for the feelings of others. If we should follow the 
Golden Rule what a beautiful world this would be. 



2i8 Life Skktches and Poems. 

The Vo\'cii(€ of Life. 

I saw a tiny babe so fair; 

Its e\es as blue as the mid-day air; 
And it sweetly lay on a sea of rest, 

And that little sea was its mother's breast. 

And I saw him aoajn, a prating boy, 

Witii his eyes of blue and a heart full of joy. 

Out on the sea of life for a ride. 

But he had his mother for his guide. 

And I saw him again, a youth full of sport. 

As he stems the tide in his little boat, 
But he has left his mother's side; 

He has a teacher for his guide. 

And now his books he must explore; 

He *s on the sea of hidden lore, 
And that is a sea the youtli deplore; 

They are not fond of hidden lore. 

Now he is working hard for fame, 
He is paddling now to gain a name; 

If he makes a hif>^h mark and opens his eves 
And is N'erv bold, he may win the prize. 

And I saw him again in his manly pride. 
Take the boat that he must guide 

Out upon the sea of strife; 
He must battle for his life. 

If he will turn his boat to the right 
And paddle away with all his might. 

He will have plenty of time to explore. 

There are beacon lights all along that shore. 



Ln I-: Sketches and Poems. 219 

lUit in his haste, with his hght heart, 
He has gone out and left his chart; 

And now, young man, 1 pra}-, beware, 
The straits of sin are \tivy fair. 

And I saw liini again, on the ocean of pride, 
And to the left his boat did glide; 

How easy to sail aside without that 
Voice and the chart to gtiide. 

That strait of sin is ver\- fair, 

You would think it right till vou were there; 
With faro banks and pools of sin; 

With excited brain ^'ou would try to win. 

If voti will stop the place to explore 

You will find thousands of wrecks upon the 
shore. 

And the\', like \ ou, have lost their guide: 
Ha\e been swepi down bv wind and tide. 

I saw him again, all tattered and torn, 

He has lost his last cent, he looks forlorn: 
He sees the deep channel on the other side, 

With its beacon lights and a chart for his 
guide. 
And he makes a struggle to stem the tide; 

His boat glides over to the right side. 
And he clasps that chart with all his might. 

And paddles up stream with heavenly light. 
His boyhood and youth have jiassed awa}'. 

Now in ruin and decay: 
If he had chosen the right side 

He could ha\e sailed on the crystal tide. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 

His form is bent, his hair is grav, 

But he is anchored safe in wisdom's bay; 

It is now the turn of the tide, 

And down the stream his boat must glide. 

There is a ri\er down below. 

His little boat to it must go: 
That ri\'er is death, he is nearinij that shore, 

He must lay down his armor and liidden 
lore. 

His house of clay must be left on this side, 
As a spirit form over that rix'er he'll glide. 

He sought the deep water, on Christ believed. 
At the eleventh hour his penny recei\'ed. 



I tremble for those young men who laugh in a scoff- 
ing way, and sav, "T am sowing my wild oats." Young 
man, you must reap what you sow . There is one 
passage in Scripture I would like for 30U to remem- 
ber. Be sure your sins will find you out. Look at 
those sons of Jacob; they thought they had co\ered 
up their sin, and their father would never find out 
what they had done with their brother Joseph, and the 
father mourned him for twent\- long vears. But at 
last, after all these long years had passed, away down 
in Egypt, there Joseph stood before the'm. Their 
sins had overtaken them. Young man, if \ou sow to 
the Spirit, you shall reap peace and joy, and happi- 
ness, and eternal life. If I were you I would make a 



Life Sketches and Poems. 221 

bonfire, and burn those oat.s, and fan the ashes to the 
four winds of heaven, that they might not come up in 
judgment against \-ou. 



Lilies on the Death of yaiiies G. Blaine. 

James G. Blaine, the nation's friend. 
Has sailed his ship unto the end. 
Over a sea of political strife 
Which no doubt has shortened his life. 

Mis great ambition would force his brain; 
Da3's on his couch he would have to remain. 
Till nature came and nursed his cause, 
And taught him a lesson on her laws. 

The great statesman has h;id to fall 
By the angel of death that takes us all. 
He has laid down his log book and chart of life. 
And entered that city where there is no more 
strife. 



Memorial JJay. 

This day calls the gloaming 
To heart, soul and mind. 

It brings back our memories 
We would not wish to define, 
Of those cloudy summits of a southern 
clime. 



Lii-E Sketches and Poems. 

Our I/oiiie in I/ccizcii. 

I arise from n\\ bed in the earlv niurn. 
To write to mv friends what I tliink; 

While I sleep I dream of those lovely lands, 
And from fountains of water I drink. 

"Tis not a loneh' isle on a boundless main; 

No brilliant but distant shore, 
Where our lo\ elv ones who were called awa\', 

Must go to return no more. 

The eye that sluits in a dving hour, 

Will open the next in bliss, 
And a welcome will sound in the hea\enly world, 

Ere the farewell is hushed in this. 

We pass from the clasp of mourning friends, 

To the arms of the loxed and lost, 
And those loved faces will greet us there. 

That on earth we have \alued the most. 

And I thank our Lord for those loveh' dreams, 
That to m\' thirsting soul is given; 

And I hope I may help to tit the world, 
To dwell with our Father in heaven. 

We will not fear death, mv loving friends; 

We will look away o'er that sea. 
Where God hath planted immortal flowers. 

And the ri\er of life runs free. 

And I know when the silver cord shall loose, 

When the \ail is rent away. 
Not long and dark shall the passage be 

To the realm of endless da^'. 



Like Sketches and Poems. 223 

The boatman will stand with niutiled oars, 

We know he has great command; 
And his compass is sure and he points it true, 

He was ne\er known to strand; 
He will land us safe on the shore of bliss, 

We \\\\\ enter that beautiful land. 

My dear readers one and all, 

I shall pass on before; 
I will wait for vou in that land of bliss. 

And will meet vour boat at the shore. 



W^e feel the attraction of that home. We are all 
homeward bound; e\er\- hour brinj^s us nearer to the 
many mansions. We are not goino- from home, or 
we might hang our heads. Our way is toward the 
Father's house. Therefore let us rejoice every step 
we take. We must have faith, and a great trust in 
our Ileavenh' Father when we are depressed in spirit. 
Then Me will comfort us if we will look to Him. He 
binds our feet lest we should fall in slippery paths. 
He restrains our hearts and keeps us from temptation. 

We may sail a while in sin, in a tiny boat, on a 
miniature lake, inclosed like a cup, Vou ma}' see sin 
look like cr^-stal streams trickling down into that lake, 
and vou are sure \ ou are happy, sailing along on a 
smooth tide. You mav see belts of green tliat look 
very inviting; a strting contrast with the iron surface 



224 ]-Il K SkETCH);s ANO Ft)EMS. 

of the rocks around lliat lake. ]^ve and bye a storm 
will arise It ni;iy be a storm of sickness and death, 
that will beat upon ^•()u. Vou ha\e nothing;' to liee to 
but yotu'self, surrcninded h\ the iron bound coast of 
sin. Your tin\' boat will not a\ail on those boundini;" 
billov\s. Then my dear friend, what will the end be? 
If \"ou look awav to those i^reen fields. \(.u will tind 
hea\'enh- pastures, and \ ou v\ ill be borne awa\' from 
that lake of sin, and ha\e a jiure heart, with the lox'e 
of your hea\enlv Father shed abroad in it. ^I'liat will 
be far better than the lake of sin. Then. m\- friend, 
when the storms of life beat hard upon vou. our 
Father will hear vour cries, and \'(.)ti \\ ill tind sweet 
comf(jrt in trusting in Him. ^'ou will be redeemed, 
not b\- j^old, but In- that jirecious blood of Christ. 

So far as cherishino; low \iews of man. I believe 
that <^ems of inestimable \alue lie concealed beneath 
the bey;gar's rags. We are launched upon the ocean 
of life like an inmmierable fleet. Each one may 
spread what sail God hath ni\en him. No commander 
has a right to saN' what course we shall take or what 
can\as we shall spread. If we put our trust in our 
heavenly captain, lie will guide tis across that ocean, 
and we shall make the port of eternal life. If we lake 
that course, we tind peace hovering o\-er us. ^llie 
(jcean is n(H alwavs tranquil, but we will tind pillowed 
on the ripples sleep the shadow s. 



LiiK Skhtciies and Pof.ms. 225 

I feel, my clear friends, that I am nearin<^ that port. 
I ha\'e had wonderful \-isions of that beautiful land 
o\er there. In siekness, for several da}s it appeared 
to me that I lay upon a cloud. Between two worlds 
I hovered. I could see a lovel}- river, the water as 
clear as cr3\stal. I could see mounds of lovely flow- 
ers and foliage, nothing like it that ever grew upon 
the earlh. I think that land is not far away, as sea- 
men from the outlook descry the mountain tops when 
their ship is ploughing a waste of water to enter their 
native land. I have something very strange about 
that sickness. When I was so that I could realize, I 
seemed to have changed. I have plent}' of proof of 
what I am about to write, here in Minneapolis, where 
I have resided for the last rive 3'ears with ni}' son. I 
was at that time sixty-eight years old. All my life I 
had loved poetry, but never could compose, and before 
I could receive strength to write it down, it would 
come in volumes to me. When some one was near 
that I could repeat it. then it would be wrote down, 
and if it was not con\'enient, that I lost. It would not 
come the second time. 

Through my sickness, the most of the poetry that 
came was from the Bible. It seemed like an inspira- 
tion. Mv phvsician said it was a phenomenal case. I 
could not account for it, neither could my friends. 
After I was stronger, I traveled for mv health. If I 



226 Ln E Sketches and Poems. 

was shocked, or apprehended any trouble in tra\eling. 
I was sure to realize all that happened in poetry, and 
I prepared myself to note it down. If I dwell upon 
one subject seyeral hours, I am sure to have poetry 
follow it. Wii}- it is, 1 cannot tell; probably the 
reader of this book will say it is very odd. It will not 
be any more of a riddle to you my friend, than it is to 
me. I g'ne this book to the world as I receive it, and 
they must judge for themsehes. 

The Bible tells us, if we ask tiie Father in faitli, 
nothing doubting, we shall recei\e, and I firmly be- 
lieve that Scripture. If ue ha\e a friend in Europe 
and he corresponds with us, we know he is there, al- 
though we do not see him. We must ha\e faith to 
believe he is there. That same rule will work with 
our heavenly Father. lie has spoken to us through 
his Son, and he sends inspirations upon us to let us 
know he is still there, if we heed that little voice that 
will never lead us astra^•. 

Not long since I heard an engineer tell what hap- 
pened to him. He said he was nearing a station one 
very dark night with a heavy j^assenger train. He 
heard a \oice telling liim to stop the train. He did 
not take any notice until he heard it the third time, 
then he called for brakes. The crew thoui^ht him 
ciaz\-. After the train was stopped he told them to 
jio ahead and see wiiat was on the track. To their 



LuK Ski;tciii-;s and I'okms. izq 

surprise there stood a coal train that had been switched 
on to the main track by mistake. Please tell me, my 
reader, what \-oice was that.' 

I hear of such cases \erv often in railroad life. If 
he had not heeded that voice, hundreds would have 
perished. I have found through the travel of sixty 
years, when I heard that small voice and obeyed it, it 
never led me astra\-. If we want a guide, we must 
be willing to acknowledge them. Our friends wish us 
not to be ashamed of them. 

My faith grows stronger every day. Flope is one 
of the chambers of the soul. We need humility with 
our hope. While I am writing I recall an incident. 
Some years since I had a lady friend, and we were 
verv warmly attached to each other, but by some out- 
side influence our friendship was broken. For sev- 
eral vears we did not cross each other's path, if it 
could be avoided. One winter I was connected with 
a revival meeting in the Methodist church. From the 
time that meeting commenced there seemed to be a 
voice speaking to me. saying, '-I must go to that lady 
and have her come to church.-" That was too much 
for me: I thought I never could come to that, she 
being very skeptical. 

It was very humiliating to me to make the first ad- 
vances. I went for several days carrying that burden 



228 Lii K Sketches and Poems. 

upon m}' shoulders, and I found I was losing my inter- 
est in the meetings. I was alarmed. 

One evening I made a determination and went to 
invite her to go with me. She appeared to be very 
much surprised, but she went with me. After a few 
evenings she came forward and joinetl the class, and 
w'as very happy. 

Mv humilit\- worked out a most ele\ated jov and I 
thanked God that he made me an instrument in bring- 
ing her to Christ. In less than one month from that 
evenino- that J met her she hu" in the cold arms of 
Death. I looked upon her with a shiver, thinking if I 
had not done my duty, what would have been the con- 
sequence. What a sin would have lain upon me. IIow 
thankful I was that God gave me strength. Oh, how 
many times through that sickness did she thank me for 
calling that evening. 

Oh, that still, small voice, 
Because it is to mortal e3'es unseen, 

Ye call it foolishness, a childish dream. 
In vain, vou cannot rob me of that thought. 

That legend with such hea\'enh' sweetness 
fraught ; 
That blessed angels have for ages smiled, 

When they have whispered, 
Man becomes more like a child. 

Oh, land unknown, Oh, land of lo\e di\ine, 
Whence come those whispers.^ 



LiFK Skktchks and Poi;ms. 229 

Oh, F\'Uher, all-wise, eternal. 
Guide those wandering, wayward feet of mine, 
Unto those pastures vernal. 



Unliickx Friday. 

Friday is regarded by many people as an unlucky 
day, though no good reason exists why this unenvia- 
ble distinction should be conferred upon it. Indeed, it 
is self-evident that one day of the week must be just 
as lucky as any other da}'. Our Saviour was cruci- 
fied on Friday, and the shadow of that awful tragedy 
has rested upon the day ever since. But it is the deed, 
and not the day, which the Christian world abhors. 
Jjecause Friday was polluted by the crucifixion, it is 
no reason the day should be unclean forever. 

Friday has been an eventful day in the history of 
America. Columbus sailed on his voyage of discov- 
ery on that day, and ten weeks after, also on Friday, 
his eyes were gladdened by the sight of land. St. Au- 
gustine, the oldest town in the United States, was 
founded on Friday, and the Mayflower, with the Pil- 
grims, arrived at Plymouth on that same day of the 
week. Bunker Hill was seized and fortified on Fri- 
day; the motion that the United Colonies were, by 
right, and ought to be, free and independent colonies, 
was made on Friday. We cite these examples sim- 



230 Lite Skhtchks and Poems. 

jilv to show that man\- important events which ha\"e 
pro\ed blessings to millions, occurred on that day 
which the unthinking and superstitious regard as im- 
luckN'. It is only as we consecrate a da^• b\- loft\' en- 
deavors and earnest thoughts that the da}s become 
significant in themselves. It must be given them bv 
us. The seventh dux was not holv until God pro- 
nounced it so. When I ha\e an\ thing to do on Fri- 
da\'. I do it. I find 1 succeed just as well as I would 
on anv other dav of the week. 



The chief use of biographv consists in the noble 
models of character with which it abounds. Our 
i^reat fore-fathers still live amonu" us in the record of 
their lives, as well as the acts thev have done, which 
live also, still sit by us at table, and hold us h\ the 
hand, furnishing examples for our benetit. v\hich we 
may still stuch', admire and imitate. Indeed, whoever 
has left behind him the record of a noble life has be- 
queathed to posterity an enduring source of good, for 
it serves as a model for others to form themselves by, 
for all time to come. Hence, a book containing the 
life of a true man is full of precious seed. It is a still 
living voice. To use Milton's words, "It is the pre- 
cious life-blood of a master spii-it embalmed and treas- 
ured up on purpose for a life beyond."' Life contact 
with the good never fails to impart good. 



LiiE Skhtches and Fof;ms. 231 

I.i)u\< to Mrs. Marx Cooley, on the Dcatli of her Soi. 

This day I ha\e met \-our brother, 

His heart is tilled with woe 
A niouniiiii;' for his sister, 

Out whei'e the orange blossoms grow. 

lie is not dead, the son of your affections. 
He has been taken from the valley of strife 

And put on the spirit immortal 
x^nd entered again into life. 

If he could speak to his mother 

And give her a fond embrace, 
His smiles would be haloes of heaven 

Shedding sunshine of love on her face. 

Your heart rna\- ache in the (<"loamin<r, 

Your eyes may till with tears: 
He has passed through the portals before vou, 

You ha\'e nothin<>; now to fear. 

There }ou will meet your loved one 

And clasp him to vour heart, 
And in that land of promise 

From him no more to ]5art. 



Better thau Gold. 

Better than grandeur, better than gold. 
Than rank and title a thousand fold 
Is a healthy body, and mind at ease, 
And a simple pleasure that always please. 



232 Like Sketches and Poems. 

A heart that can feel for others' woes 

With s\'mpathies enough to enfold 

All men as brothers is better than gold. 

Better than gold is a conscience clear, 
The toiling for bread in an humble si')here, 
Doubly blessed with content and health. 
Untried b}- lust and cares of wealth. 

Lowly living and lowly thought 
Adorn and ennoble the poor man's cot, 
For mind and morals in nature's plan 
Are the genuine tests of a gentleman. 

Better than gold is the sweet repose 

Of the sons of toil when their labors close; 

Better than gold is the poor man's sleep. 

And the balm that drops from his slumbers deep. 

Bring sleeping draughts to the downy bed 
Where luxur}' pillows its aching head. 
The toiler's simple opiate seems 
A shorter route to the land of dreams. 

Better than gold is a thinking mind 
That in the realm of books can find 
A treasure surpassing Australian ore. 
And live with the great and good of yore. 

The sage's lore and the poet's lay, 
The glories of empires passed awaw 
The worlds great will thus unfold 
And yield a treasure better than gold. 

Better than gold is a pleasant home 
Where all the fireside comforts come; 



Life Sketches and Poems. 233 

The shrine, the heavenly Hfe. 
Hallowed by motlier, sister and wife. 

However humble the home may be, 
Or tried by sorrow by heaven's decree, 
The blessings that never were bought or sold, 
And center there are better than gold. 



Kccf the Sky in Viczv. 

Just keep your eyes from off the earth, 
And keep the sky, my friends, in view, 

It may be cold and dark below. 
But there's a light above for you. 

It long has been the lot of man, 
And woman too, I do believe. 

To find as thev pass on through life 
A host of thinifs to make them grieve. 

For sometimes trouble comes, and grief, 
When hearts are wilful, proud and cold, 

And wander on in sinful ways 
Beyond the shelter of the fold. 

Then sorrow is not sent, my friends, 
To make your life so sad and drear, 

But that your life may make amends. 
And grow into a heavenly sphere. 

Balm is given for every wound 

That ever grieved a mortal breast. 

And light and hope will come full soon 
And brino- to vou an added rest. 



234 Like Sketches and Poems. 

As brighter shines the sky and sun 
After the storm has driven past, 

So souls that long have been undone 
Are purified when woes are passed 

So keep 3'our e\'es from off the earth, 
And keep the skv alua^s in view. 

It may be cold and dark below, 
But there's a li<rht above for vou. 



Conscience. 

I ask for a conscience 
That cannot be sold 

For that bright coin 
The}' call pure gold. 

And I pra}' our Father 
Will ever impart 

His holy blessing 
To that leaf of my heart. 

I know it is folded 
And closed like a book. 

But in my long journey 
If the right path \ took-, 

I shall ha\e nothino- to fear 
When the\' open that book. 

And now dearest Father, 
I pra^' for tlie world, 

That they have a conscience 
Tiiat cannot be sold. 



Life Sketches and Poems. 235 

That they ma}' be adopted, 
Their names written down 

As heirs to Thy mansion, 
With robes and bright crown. 

And now, my dear readers, 
To you I'll be true, 

M}- b«#k is nearl}- tinished, 
I must bid vou adieu. 



l-tb 8 ^^0^ 



